Into La Ment
by Rue Marie
Summary: Everything has fallen apart around little Giry. Or so she feels.. Maybe it has. Anyway, a predicament has her meeting a past interest. [Proceeding musical or film. Rating for violence.]R
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: Fear the strangess of my title. Any who, I quite like the idea of a.. Meg/Erik fic. So I wrote one! Though, it's not going to be romantic.. I don't think. Unless people want me to make it that way, in which case I'll try my best, they just have to tell me. The first chapter isn't too exciting. I'll let you judge that though. This is my first POTO fan fiction.. and first fan fiction on this site.So, hopefully it's not too disappointing. Corrective criticism is appreciated!  
**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

**Into La Ment**

The sound of soaring wings cut though the mounting rain. The black eyes of a scavenger surveyed the dingy back street for refuse from the oncoming shower. Darkness melts into the ebony feathers of the mysterious bird as it elegantly lands on a pole, part of a fire escape. The walls of the building behind the bird's position, stand, streaked from mold, results of previous rains. The raven calls out into the street only replied by the rhythm of the rain, a clutter, then the sharp crash of a falling compost bucket. Wavering, the raven took flight, landing on a nearby window seal of the poor conditioned apartment building. The soft light of a candle from inside danced across the raven's feathers, making them gleam.

'_Hello.' _Thought the young lady within the building, sitting carelessly in the bay window of her apartment that overlooked that said street. A book lay open on her bent knee; a candle lit closer to the window itself. She smiled, faintly being able to make out the dark bird's body against the night. She leaned her head delicately against the window, making her blond hair scrunch up against the glass. She slowly brought her hand up to the window and whistled subtly, tapping the glass, flinching a bit as the bird fluttered its wings in surprise. The woman sighed and turned away, looking back to her book with which she found herself re-reading every other sentence.

'_I'm so sick of this.'_ Frustrated, she tossed her book aside with a loud thud. '_It's not like it will get any better anyways.'_ With another sigh, she sat up, rubbing her temples. Why couldn't she stop thinking about everything? It's been a year.. almost two.. but she missed her old life. Everything has changed.._ 'Get a hold of yourself Meg. Your just moping.'_ Standing, Meg Giry glanced about her small lounge room. It wasn't so bad; at least for the price she was paying for it. A chair was in the opposite corner before a door-less opening lead into the little kitchen. She absentmindedly placed her hand on the corner of her window, running her fingers across the molding on the corner of the wall. The beautiful bay window was the only thing that she adored in the room. Meg didn't care if it wasn't customary for a woman her age to be living alone, she wasn't about to move in with some trash of a man whom her mother had tired so hard to steer her away from.

It has been raining for almost two days; it has been virtually constant. Meg pushed herself forward, _'Why is it so dull now?'_ Inside her mind, she stressed dull. Nothing happens anymore, no one is with her anymore. A sob raised in her throat, but she caught herself. _'Honestly Meg!'_

The days passed like this. She barely did anything with her time. Had to stop herself from thinking about the past, and not to sulk. Life did have its rare.. amusement. Meeting men, whom she really had no interest in. She could be called a tease, but they where the ones who approached her, so, she tried to make drama to only amuse herself. She was never serious with them, and they all suddenly stopped visiting her at work after time, which was fine by her. Meg worked at a small ballet school, about three miles from her home, a pone which she had to walk to. The pay wasn't much, but it supported her for what she needed. She only taught three days a week, and tomorrow wasn't one of them.

Meg yawned, stretching her arms as she did so and glanced at the clock, _'9:53' _She froze as she read this and stared at the clock oddly, '_Wow, where has time flown to?'_ She reached forward and poked it, then moved back as if it would jump at her. Usually, she went to sleep much earlier. Maybe she had dosed off while attempting to read. She didn't remember. Shuffling her feet, she entered her bedroom, already in her dressing gown. A simple dresser was pushed against the wall on the right of her. A vanity mirror was set on top, along with random essentials: comb, bushes, ties, ect.

There was one thing on the dresser that stood out. A medium sized mahogany box, stunningly polished with gold colored entwined lily patterns along the corners. Meg walked passed the dresser, and stopped suddenly, glancing back at the box. She smiled and put her hand back, brushing the top of the box with her fingertips. '_After all this, and I'm still fascinated.'_ With a shake of her head, Meg turned, falling down on her bed. She lay, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned on her side and stared at the box. _'I dare say.. I maybe obsessed.' _

Little Meg fell asleep; staring at the box made of mahogany.

Meg groaned, turning over in her bed, her sleep interrupted by the morning sun shining in her eyes. She threw up her hand as if to knock it away, "Shoo... five more minutes.." She grumbled, realizing the sun wasn't going to comply, she opening her eyes and blinked as they adjusted. Mumbling incoherently, she sat up and yawned, _'What time is it?'_ She thought, while throwing the covers off her and getting up to wander into the restroom. She exited, going back into her room and grabbing the brush off her dresser. She began to brush her hair, tugging at a knot for a moment until it was brushed through. Grabbing at a hair tie, she glanced at the box and couldn't help but smile at herself. "It's not like it's gone anywhere." She said groggily, tapping the top lightly with her comb in good cheer. She quickly tied back her hair and changed into a plain evening gown and hurried out her room and into the kitchen.

She opened the door to her icebox†. As she opened the door, she stared pathetically inside. '_Oh, where has all the food gone.'.._ "I ate it." _'Yes, yes you did. Ew, except that.'_ Her face turned up in disgust at an unidentified food object, that, she swore, growled at her. Sighing unhappily, either for the lack of unspoiled food, or the realization she was talking to herself, Meg shut the door. At least she still had enough ice to last awhile.

She never liked going to the market, and it was a good distance away. The actual length didn't bother her, but the area she lived in was terrible and she didn't enjoy walking through it. Reluctant, and mourning for her cheerful mood, Meg walked to the door and grabbed a set of keys, as well as a small knife, from a table by the door, the only other furniture in the lounge room besides the chair. She opened the door while slipping on her shoes and stepped out into the world. She took a deep breath of the air outside, it was no where near clean, but it was still better then the musky feel of her apartment. Turning, she closed the door and locked it's dual locks and limped forward on a leg as she put her keys in her left shoe and slipped the knife down her right sleeve, then proceeded down the stairs.

Looking up, she noticed the sky was already starting to darken from the lingering clouds. _'It better not rain on me.'_ She glared pointlessly, it wasn't enough that she was hungry, and had already felt and heard her stomach gurgle, oh no, now the rain was threatening her. As Meg thought, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye and heard something clatter. Her brain seemed to pause, and she stopped. After listening for a minute, a small huff of laughter slipped past her lips. _'I'm being ridiculous.' _Paranoia was starting to rise in her, despite trying to reason with herself. Sighing, she continued onward, it was still another few miles until she would reach a market, and _nothing _was following her. _'Right?' _She glanced over her shoulder. _'Right.'_

* * *

† I asked my mother if they had refrigerators in the early 1900s, and she said no. Then explained these weird icebox thingies. But no, it's not like a modern day cooler.  
Random: Madame Giry is deceased in this. Which is sad.. but it had to be, for the plot. Sorry. 

If you notice anything I did wrong, feel free to inform me. I shall continue updating this if I'm wanted too. So review, please!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: I would like to take this moment to apologize, for the pure.. predictability of this chapter. I needed a situation, so I choose.. this. It's terrible! I know. Please, forgive me. May it not trouble you much.. Thank you for the reviews! People are probably like 'Well three isn't a lot..' but I don't care! I am easily pleased. So, now to respond because I want too.

**Zeech:** Thanks, I am glad you like it. Your fic is on my favorites as well, it's the only one. Seeing as how the other ones I like never are updated.. stupid people.. Anyways, I'm not planning on their meeting to be extended for along time, but I actually know where I'm going with this! Which is rare, because usually I don't know where I'm going with what I write. o.O  
**Lady Phedre:** I've read a lot of stories were Meg's name is Megan but I think you're right.. so, as not to cause much confusion, I shall just type 'Meg' from now on. As for the speech, it is informal; you're right, but only because she is thinking to herself. Trust me, it gets more fancy when there is actual conversation, but I will try to make it less modern in her thoughts as well.  
**Maeko-Nohara:** No need to worry, it's not going to get too fluffy. - If that's even what you _are_ worried about.  
**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

When Meg Giry had reached her destination, she was almost at a jog. Despite her own logic protesting, her intuition made her speed up. It took her some time to pick out the necessities for a few days. Usually, she would have bought less, then stopped on her way back from work, but she decided to pack up to avoid going out of her way tomorrow, mostly because she still felt anxious. It was dark when Meg began to make her way back home, the clouds where now covered the sky. She held a paper bag close to her chest, walking carefully down the street. She hopped down a curb, and splashed into a small puddle, trying to amuse herself childishly. The cold wind fluttered the skirt of her dress; she smiled subtly, relieved of her worry.

Meg was only a block or so from her apartment when her relief fled from her, she glanced over, seeing a group of men, some younger, and some older then herself. She noticed their looks at her; one even had the nerve to whistle. She tried not to show the repulsion she was feeling, knowing nothing could turn out well with a woman walking in a alleyway, alone and a group of men eyeing her. She could have kicked herself for not listening too obvious logic. Something awful was going to happen, she knew it, she wanted to run, but she couldn't. She continued to walk, quickly, and almost stumbled as she heard numerous footsteps behind her. Her arms began to shake and she turned around swiftly, her fears conformed, they where standing close by. She grimaced as they stopped walking as well; one of them spoke, walking toward her casually.

†"Greeting, Mademoiselle.." He trailed off a bit, deciding he was had spoken correctly from her silence, he continued, "What is a fine lady like you doing out here lone?" His gestured around himself, his voice more suggestive then polite.

"Can I help you with something?" She paused for a moment, then scowled, deciding not to finish, as they were defiantly not gentlemen. He had stopped walking and stared at her with a look of surprise, then glanced at the five men behind him.

"How impolite, well, it _is_ expected of an Unfortunate.."

"Pardon?" Meg snarled angrily, she was definitely, _not_ a scarlet woman.

"If you won't cooperate-"

"I have a knife!" Meg suddenly shouted stupidly, interrupting then gasped as one of the men on the left held up that said knife.

"No, I believe you do not.." The first man said, and at that, Meg turned tail and ran. She closed her eyes for a moment, they where following her, she heard them. '_That noise, from before, it was my knife falling. I did not notice it! How can I be so foolish!?'_ She cursed herself, at that time feeling someone's hand brush through her hair, glancing back, she saw the man who had spoke to her earlier. Fear filled a sudden rage and she threw the bag back into his stomach. She heard the breath of air as it left his lungs, and she turned her attention back to running, which was now much easier without the bag, '_It's no use, why am I running? I knew this would happen, of course. Anyone could have seen it coming.'_

Meg glanced over, she wasn't sure how far she had gotten but her legs trembled, and her adrenaline was wearing thin. She gasped for breath as a strong arm wrapped around her waist. Tired, she barely fought from his grasp, and was twirled to face one of the man. He was pushed aside by the recognizable man, who yelled a curse word Meg couldn't really make out. Her vision blurred between each heaving breath, she felt as if she would faint, but a sharp hand across her face seemed to snap her out of her haze. Her left cheek stung, and she had bit her lower lip, causing herself to bleed. She simply glared at the man as he cursed at her again.

"You're making this worse for yourself!" The man screamed, but Meg wasn't listening now, she was staring behind him, a black shadow had caught her eye. "Look at me!" His demand brought her eyes back to him, and she flinched at the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. He gestured toward his companion with the knife, who handed it to him. She felt the cold steel against her neck and tried to jerk away, but was caught by the hair, causing it to fall chaotically out of its tie.

"Get away!" And so, adrenaline had kicked back in, and she shoved him. To her surprise, he gagged. She stopped and staggered back, watching as a dark figure of a man stood next to the man assaulting her. The ††unidentified man had his hands close to the assaulter's neck, his face turning a shade of purple. He struggled and tried to retch away; all she could do was stare with a dumbfounded expression. Meg finally tore her eyes away from the sight before her and leaned to the side to see the other men whom where running toward the figure, "Monsieur!" She shouted loudly, pointing behind the unidentified man. He turned gracefully, his cloak swirling as he did so. For a moment, Meg remained in a daze at the pure eloquence of his movements, then something caught her eye, a strange sort of wire. The wire slide from under her assaulter's neck as the unidentified man left him, and she watched the assaulter fall to the ground before her.

A ring of discolored flesh was around his neck. His hands were shaking and he tried to reach out to her, an expression of horror and fear on his face. He attempted too speak, but only blood reached his mouth and he coughed, crimson liquid running down his chin. He grasped her ankle weakly, and she merely shook her head quickly pulled her leg away and stepped back. He tried to speak again, and Meg guessed he was angry for when he did the mixture of blood and saliva slurred from his mouth and into the air, speckling his face before he suddenly went limp and his eyes lost emotion. Shaking, she moved back more and leaned against a wall. Now a specter to a drama that she was no longer part of.

Two new corpses were now strewn on the street, the far one was twitching, and the closer's throat trickled with blood, a wound that Meg guessed was caused by the unidentified man jerking on the wire. Scratches ran down its neck from the victim trying to grab the wire from his neck. Her gaze went from the corpses back up to the fight before her. The unidentified man had just let another body fall to the floor and moved easily aside as one of the two men lefts ran at him. A whizzing sound, then a gasp of breath, and he had another. The man screamed in terror, and Meg saw he had raised his hand in time for the unidentified man had caught both his throat, and his left wrist.

Meg watched him struggle, yes, she was horrified, but to her own distasted, she continued watching. She tried in vain to see the unknown man's face, but it seemed every time that he was turned in her direction, shadows hid him. It was then she caught sight of a gleam of steel from the other man hand, "Monsieur, he has the knife!" Meg found herself yelling before she could think. The figure took no heed, and seemed to ignore her. Startled, she guessed he had not heard her, "Monsieur!" She repeated, but alias, the same response. She struggled too yell again, but found herself choking on her own words.

The unidentified man turned so swiftly the male with the knife stumbled forward and nearly cut his companion across the face. The unidentified man loosened his grip on the strange wire reluctantly and turned to begin to strangle the man whom held knife. She watched as the man recently released struggled up and stumbled to a rusted pipe, gasping and grabbing at his own throat with one hand, the other reaching out to grab the pipe. He turned and ran at the unidentified man, it was clear now he was using no tactic as he hurled the pipe at the man's legs. He failed to hit him; the unidentified man simply jumped effortlessly into the air and landed flawlessly, his cloak flowing about him. The pipe had clanged to the floor and rolled off in Meg's direction, it was then that she realized the strangling man had †††grabbed something from the unidentified man's face. The gentleman, whom was facing Meg, turned away from her, the first ungraceful movement he had made since she had first seen him.

Meg yelled out as the free man grabbed at the knife his friend had dropped and thrust it into the figure's back. The man gasped when the unidentified man turned quickly and grabbed his arm in a strangely calm manner, he yanked and it made a sickening pop. The man cried out in pain and stumbled back, holding his arm. All seemed on pause for a moment, both men and Meg, watched the unidentified man. The only thing Meg could hear besides her own uneven breaths, were the small whines from the man who's arm had, most likely, just recently been dislocated.

One of the two men yelled out in frustration, breaking the silence and suddenly kicked the unidentified man in the side, whom fell forward from the force of the other man's kick. "Not so dangerous now, are you freak!" He unpleasant man yelled, laughing and continuing to kick the fallen.

The other began to back away from everything, pure terror danced in his eyes, and he slowly raised his hand to make the ††††mano cornuta, mumbling to himself and proceeding to run off.

Meg wasn't paying attention to him, only to the man battering the gentleman who saved her. Fury suddenly over took her, and she grabbed for the pipe. She then ran at the man, "Stop it!" Without giving him a chance to do as she instructed, she swung the pipe at his back. A small crack sounded and the man cried out and fell forward, staggering to collect himself he cursed at her and began running awkwardly off after the already retreating man.

Meg stood, her chest heaving, holding the pipe in her hand. She let it clatter to the ground as she kneeled beside the figure, gently reaching out to touch him. "Monsieur.." Meg said softly, hearing a soft groan in response. "Your going to be fine, Monsieur. Don't worry." She gently pushed the cloak from his face, gasping slightly as she stared at him. The right side of his face was greatly distorted; "Phantom..." She moved her hand forward toward his face, then stopped at her hand began to tremble. '_It's the Phantom of the opera..'_ She thought, then looked away quickly, not from fear, from realization. He needed care, immediately; she didn't have time to gawk at him. She glanced back to see her position, surprised at how far she had gotten to her apartment. Slowly, she stood.

"Monsieur, this is going to hurt, seeing as how I'm certain I cannot carry you well." Meg heaved him to a sitting position though this time there was no groan, no sign he felt pain. This hurried her, definitely wanting to avoid shock, even worse, what if the spine was damaged? Shaking the thoughts from her head, she tried to heave him onto her back, failing terribly to get a good position, she continued onward, practically dragging him. Halfway to the stairs, she had gotten into a tolerable position, and was moving steadily with him. The problem was the stairs themselves. Carefully putting him down, she began to gradually make her way up the stairs, moving him gently one stair at a time.

The process took longer then Meg expected, but she had managed to be completely patient. She reached into her shoe, shocked to realize her keys where still in place. She unlocked the locks, and got back in the position she was in earlier, and struggled to the bedroom. Once inside, she moved to the bed and leaned back, letting him fall smoothly into it. Catching her breath, Meg turned to stare at him, his chest rose as he breathed and it seemed even, which comforted her. A nervous expression crossed her face. _'I'm going to have to undress him. ' _She thought with uncomfortable expression on her face, then rolled her eyes, "I'm being a twit." Meg reached forward and began to remove his cloak and dress coat, when finished; she folded them both carefully, and placed them aside. She returned to his side and began to undo his dress shirt. '_No need to take to remove it, I'll just rise it.'_ She gently began to roll him over, taking her time, moving him very carefully. When he was finally laying on his stomach, she slowly lifted the back of his shirt, face flinching slightly as she peeled the blood matted cloth up and away from his wound. The stab wound was far enough away from his spine for Meg to know it wasn't effected, and it wasn't deep. Her dagger, the one they used, the blade was probably only three inches.

Meg made her way into the kitchen and retrieved a sterling silver bowl and a cloth, filling the bowl with water and placing the cloth inside. Seeing the water, she suddenly realized how dry and achy her throat was. She forced herself back into her room determined to aid him before herself. She sat at the side of her bed, putting the bowl on the floor and wringed out the cloth, then looked back to the Phantom. She gently cleaned at the area around his wound, then drabbed at the wound itself. Meg placed the cloth against his wound, and pressed down, trying not to put to much pressure on it. "I'm afraid the water is not hot, Monsieur.. and the bleeding is somewhat severe.." Her voice was scratchy, and she tried to make it softer even though she knew he could not hear her. "Tomorrow, I will tend to you better.." She trailed off, as she noticed a long, slashed mark coming down from his shoulder. Curiously, Meg raised her hand and ran a finger down it, then pulled back quickly when she felt him stir. She stared down at him for a moment, "Monsieur..?" Silence was her only answer. She sighed and stood, walking to her dresser.

Many, many, thoughts raced through her head. This had to be the phantom, the one whom everyone feared. The one who destroyed the Opera, who kidnapped her best friend. He was going too, and very well could have, killed the present †††††Viscount de Chagny, Christine's husband. Her mother had told her of the Phantom's story, all she knew about him before her passing and had succeeded in only refurbishing her interest in him. She groaned as a sharp pain shot threw her head and she brought up her hand, nearly causing herself too lose her balance. Quickly, she brought her hand back down hard onto the dresser top to steady herself. She ignored her dry throat and made her way into the lounge room where she dropped into the chair, pulling her knees to her chest. Normally, this would be the most uncomfortable position, and place, she could think of sleeping in. Though, her throbbing head and tired muscles made it easy to drift off into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

†- The speak goes from formal and rapidly to informal, because well, they're uneducated. Also, I hope all this is somewhat clear.  
††- This shall be Erik's new name for some paragraphs. Known as gentleman twice and man once. Don't worry, he will get his name soon. I don't like to give away character's names until they have been spoken, or thought.  
†††- I gave Erik a new mask. Seeing as Meg stole his stole his old one. In this, Erik is still very sensitive about his deformity.  
††††- A gesture to warn off evil.  
†††††- I wasn't sure if I wanted Philippe to be alive. In the end I chose alive, because he's cool. 

Again, I express regret, for this unoriginal chapter. Erik went down way too easily, but after all he is only a man. Whom, had just killed four people, while fighting off the ones who were still alive. A stab wound, and exhaustion equal- not going to do so well. So, that might explain it a bit.  
You all probably have some corrective criticism, especially in this chapter, and I will take it gladly. Yay! Review!  
Random note: I just got done planting eighteen lily bulbs in my garden, mourning over the dying-ness of my Freesia, having a dispute with a bee, and I still have time to update. Go me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: Uh, Sorry for the short chapter. I need fix up the other stuffs I have written..  
**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

He woke to the faint sound of someone moving about, the feeling of soft bed cushioning against his face and a weak musky smell. He lay for a moment, trying to comprehend. Then, as the remembrance of what had happened last night dawned on him, panic struck. He rolled over on his side, immediately decided that was a huge mistake. Ache ran up his spine and he clenched his teeth, holding back a shout. He cursed and took a deep breath, rolling onto his back, again causing the same conclusion. "Christ." He grumbled, turning back onto his stomach, _'Where am I?..'_ He thought, turning his head, the pleasant side of his face sinking into the pillow. _'Where ever, its not adorned extremely well.'_ He closed his eyes, deciding he wanted to continue sleeping despite his confusion, but right as he began to drift off, a cheery voice spoke too him.

"Good morning Monsieur. It seems you've moved about," the voice was suddenly stern, "Not such an intelligent decision.."  
The second he heard her he flinched and quickly tried to turn over, forgetting his wound to hide the right side of his face. Grunting painfully, he satisfied himself by placing his hand over that said side. He then scowled, opening his eyes, finding himself in a reasonably foul mood, "I'm afraid I am not accustom to waking in a unfamiliar location, wounded none the less."

There was silence for a moment, then he heard her set something down, then the sound of water. "You were wounded last night.." Her voice was dull, and she suddenly sounded very drowsy. He kept himself from shouting, of course he was. It's not as if he hadn't remembered. He now wondered what she was doing, and who she was for that matter. She sounded young, but old enough to have a husband, but what kind of husband would leave his wife to tend a wounded man alone?  
"Mademoiselle, may I ask for your name?"  
"Meg. You know my last name, Monsieur, and you?" She mumbled the last part, sound uncertain. He did? So, maybe this was Madam Giry's girl? He knew he'd seen her before, she resembled her mother to a point. He relaxed; he _was_ in the right place.  
"My mask?"  
He heard her sigh, "You didn't answer _me._ Have you forgotten your own name? Memory loss, from a stab wound to the back?" He rolled his eyes at her comment, and remained silent. "_They _torn it off." She answered finally, and he growled a bit, it wasn't the answer he wanted.  
"Believe me, I am fully aware of that." He replied harshly, but he did not care.  
"I am sorry, Monsieur, I did not retrieve it...I ran out quickly, heard a noise, panicked, grab the bag of things I bought yesterday and darted inside."  
'_She had to have seen my face... no doubt it sickened the poor girl.'_ He thought to himself, not really paying attention to her. He let out a small huff of laughter absentmindedly.  
"What, may I ask, is so amusing?" Her voice was tinted with anger.  
'_You, daft girl...'_ He thought, but merely shrugged. "I should be on my way; I simply came to see your m-"  
"I would sure like to see you try!" Her voice caught off a sob, which he couldn't really place.  
"Pardon?" He said, and began to try to sit up tenderly, but was held down by two hands on his shoulders.  
"No no, Monsieur, you aided me. I am helping you. Besides, if you attempted to stand, you would reopen the wound. You have already bled all over my bedding; the floor does not need the abuse as well."  
He scoffed, "Mademoiselle, I am capable of-"  
"No, you are not. You are simply being stubborn."  
"Allow me too rise." He said with bloodcurdling calmness, he guessed it had scared her, and he smirked at the fear he could hear from the sudden change in her tone.  
"No.." She trailed on quietly, attempting to be brave.  
He laughed, "Being quite bold, aren't we?"  
"I beg of you, _allow _me too tend to your wound." Her voice was strict unexpectedly, the plead seeming more like a demand, it results in a silence lingering between them.  
He sighed, "I'll _humor_ you, Mademoiselle." He said mockingly, then shifted turning his head to rest the distorted side of his face into the pillow.  
"Oh, well, thank you." She said sarcastically.

He couldn't help but tremble subtly as he felt her warm hands against his back. He flinched as she maneuvered his shirt higher, which he just realized was undone. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.  
"I tried to cleanse it last night, but.. I had no time to heat the water." She answered his question before he could ask. He winced as he felt the warm cloth against his back, and Meg spoke again, "Oh, It is going too be painful." He glared in response to the laughter in her voice.  
"Inform me, _before _you begin." He grumbled though clenched teeth, quite sure she was smiling.

He found himself adjusted to the pain quite quickly, and was now lulling comfortably. The warmth of the cloth and soft movements of her hand had caused him to nod off a few times, but he quickly re-awoke himself. He tried not to think logically, he knew the results of her kindness would end in her soon shoving him out the door in fear, though, the girl had been surprisingly brave so far. She was assisting too repaying him, and because, most likely, she knew of her mother's connection too him. In that, for the moment, he allowed himself to be content under Meg's hands and found himself completely at ease, and when he himself realized this, he quickly motioned for her to stop. To his surprise, she moved away without retort and he felt her stand.

"When I salvaged my belongings from yesterday, several things were missing but enough was there for me to make some kind of †potage.." She sighed, and was he was surprised at how pitiable she sounded.  
"Mademoiselle.. are you aware, that you sound exhausted?"

She laughed, and he heard footsteps, and her voice from afar, "I believe I am, but, I remain in better condition then you," she paused for a moment and hesitated, "_Erik._"

Erik was taken back when she spoke his name; her mother would have had to told her. Had he even told her mother of his name? He must have somewhere along the line. He sighed out of boredom, then began thinking. He never really noticed Marguerite around the Opera house, but of course she had to have lived there with her mother. '_Ah, right.'_ He remembered now, and smirked, _'Ballet rat.'_ He couldn't help but laugh as Meg appeared in the doorway, holding a bowl, steam gently swaying up into the air from the contents inside.  
"Monsieur, you must think yourself to have a wonderful sense of humor.." She stared at him oddly, ".. or you are in a delusional state."  
"Ah, I suppose the latter of the two." He announced, his voice muffled from the pillow, "It is, though, all quite _humorous_ how I am to eat in this position, seeing as how _you_ will not allow me too _move from it_."  
".. Nonsense, you can move now that I am done cleaning the wound. About that, is not that deep, you'll be capable too rise soon." She moved forward slyly, then leaned toward him a bit, "Or is it that poor _Monsieur Phantom_, fears standing because of his current, _sore_." Before she even had time too snicker, Erik had sat up and snatched the bowl from her hands. Causing her to stare down dumbly at her hands.  
"I implore you to remember, _Mademoiselle_, that had I not intervened with those thugs, you would have been in a terrible predicament." He said coldly, glaring, completely forgetting to even conceal his face.  
"Oh, I beg your pardon, how could I have forgotten?" She said with mock playfulness, stepping back and doing an inelegant curtsy. "I could have taken them." She turned and began to walk off, leaving Erik to look down at the soup in the bowl, with a quite displeased expression. He stirred the contents with the spoon that was left in it, then smelled it, and decided it couldn't be that bad. He tasted it, surprised that is was not completely appalling. When finished, he gently set the bowl on the floor, grunting subtly from the movement. Meg had returned some minutes later, handing him a cup of water. She smiled, but cheer slipped from her expression when Erik listlessly took it from her then turned away to hide the right side of his face and proceeded to ignore her.

She thought they had been getting along.

* * *

†Potage-A thick, often creamy soup.

Review if you wish. But I doubt anyone continues to read this drivel...  
Yay for pessimism!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.

Authoress' Note: To lazy to correct the 'Megan' from the last chapter, sorry. Okay, this is the last chapter that I had pre-typed. Now it will probably take a bit longer for me to update. Probably every three or four days from now on. Depends on my mood. But! Good news, my life is not exciting! Meaning: I have nothing else to do! ... Yeah. Answering now!

**Zeech:** I'm completely negative, so feel free to ignore my insults to my own writing! I appreciate your reviews, their so long and stuff, it makes me happy. I play a guessing game with the 'to-too's. I hate them, and their not to fond of me. I need to figure that whole thing out o.o. Glad you liked chapter two, that one worried me, I was not sure if it was realistic enough. But apparently, it was! Yes, this Erik is arrogant. I don't want him to be so.. tender, like steak. He's all emotionally disabled. Typos; I always read chapters over before I update, but typos still slip through, oh well. As long as their not bothersome. I enjoy reading your reviews. I shall continue this until it is finished now!  
**Snowfox2:** Yes'm! No dying!

**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

****

...Into La Ment

Erik had awoken midday, sleeping in a position that surprised him, seeing as how the previous nights lying as he was woke him. He had slept well and had not been interrupted by pain during the night, which had been a dramatic change. He stood triumphantly, and stretched, flinching a bit from a sudden twinge of pain. Shrugging, he glanced around and began to make his way out of the room, walking ineptly, but thought it well that he was walking at all. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and leaned against the molding, covering the right side of his face idly and looking at Meg with a victorious smile. She didn't notice him at first as she placed the remains of a †muffin in her mouth, she looked up at him, jumping slightly as she moved her hand to her chest, taking a deep breath.

"Monsieur, you frightened me." As if suddenly realizing he was there again, her startled expression became blank, "What in the world are you doing?"  
"Standing, I believe. Mademoiselle, I am feeling quite improved."  
"You, are ridiculous!" Meg virtually shouted, standing and brushing off her hands, "You are going to re-open the wound and we will be back too where we started." She walked briskly around the table, in a way that reminded Erik of her mother. She stopped in front of him, looking at him irritably, "Well, show me then." She said, gesturing out of the doorway.

Erik had impulse to simply snort irritably at her demand and leave, but seeing he was in good cheer, and quite enjoying aggravating little Giry, he decided to continue. Moving with natural poise, Erik walked into the lounge room. Finding himself in some pain. He forced himself to keep a pleased expression on his face and ignored the pain shooting up his back. He stopped and looked back at Meg, his lips curling up into a bizarre, uncomfortable smile. In the end, he failed himself, face twisting with the knowledge of his obvious failure as he winced. Meg smirked faintly, but it quickly faded from her lips when Erik gave her a cold glare. Meg looked downward, obviously uneasy. She cleared her throat and began to walk toward Erik, glancing around uncomfortably. "Monsieur.. you're not in the condition to be gallivanting about.."

"Nonsense," Erik waved her off and began walking to her room, "I refuse to intrude a pone your hospitality any longer."

Meg sighed in relief as Erik began to walk off. She was worried he would stomp out the door, leaving her alone, and with the many questions she sought to ask him. Hurriedly, she walked after him stopping in the doorway and watching him reach for his cloak and coat. "Wait, Monsieur! I insist you stay for a bit longer. You are being quite careless!" Erik glanced over at her, but besides that simply ignored her. Motivated, Meg strode toward him as he himself turned to leave the room, in the same moment, Erik collided with Meg causing her to yelp and nearly fall backward. Erik's cloak fluttered into the air and onto his head, he tried to throw it off but ended up stumbling back and falling onto the bed. He flung his arm wildly to fling off his cloak, now in pain, frustrated and confused. Meg ran toward to the end of the bed and grabbed Erik's cloak, quickly pulling it off. Misjudging the required strength for said task; she tumbled backward onto the floor.

Everything was quiet for a good minute. Meg stared blankly up in shock, the cloak still clenched in her hand, her other holding down the skirt of her dress. She heard the rustle of Erik's movements, and blinked perplexedly as he leaned over to look down at her, strings of his dark hair falling into his face. He sneered cheerfully, once again enjoying himself. "Mademoiselle, you, are exceedingly clumsy.." He moved back and sighed in annoyance feeling warm liquid running down his back, "You will be pleased to know, you succeeded in only impairing me once again." He held his hand down toward her and she took hold of it, the skirt of her dress sliding up, promptly reversing its self as Erik effortlessly pulled her off the ground, flinching as he did so.  
Meg gave him an apologetic look and set his cloak on the dresser, the surprise draining from her face. "You are bleeding once more?" Erik glanced at her, and nodded. He sighed again and turned gingerly, lying on his stomach, looking quite disgruntled.

"This will further spoil my perfect attire.." He said sarcastically, quite aware he was in dire need of new dress clothes.  
"All right then! I shall go out and purchase you something!" Meg said cheerfully, receiving a questionable look from Erik. She smiled sheepishly; noting his expression, realizing her voice sounded much to giddy. "Yes.. well, I avoided work yesterday; I must go meet Madame Friar today. I believe she will let me teach at present to requite. Better still, I will most likely receive payment. In conclusion, I can purchase you a new dress shirt and what not. Cannot have you lying about in bloodied clothing, you've done that long enough..-"

Erik had ceased concentration, he couldn't decide if it was the sudden nausea, or the mere fact that the girl was rambling on that made his mind blur out her speech. He would defiantly need to repay her. He found it ironic how, like her mother, Meg was helping him. He was glad to find Meg had her mother's character, though, she was more frivolous. Like her mother, she was different from many Parisian women. Strong disposition, while remaining amiable. He sighed; his thoughts were jumping around quite a lot lately.

The sigh had drawn Meg's attention, "Monsieur?" She questioned, staring at him blankly. He glanced up at her and all the thoughts tugged at the corner of his lips, he couldn't help but smile. "Your pay must not be much; I would hate to see you waste it all on me. I will be repaying you, mademoiselle. I dislike having expenses hovering about. "  
"If you insist." She smiled and nodded, turning and beginning to walk off, "I will buy effects to dress your wound as well. I should return before sundown." With that, she was off into the lounge room. Erik immediately thought of her well being while she roamed the streets.  
"Mademoiselle, you must be cautious.. I dislike the idea of you wandering about after what transpired before.." He began to charily prop himself up on his elbows, forgetting for a moment of his reopened wound. He heard the door open, and then a few _taps_ of footsteps on the metal stairway. A pause, and they began again. Confused, he stared blankly at the doorway, wondering what she was doing. At that second, Meg appeared in the doorway, staring at him with a concerned expression.

"Do not be too troubled, but.. the," she hesitated, "_scene_ was discovered. Are you going to be all right, with the bleeding?" The question came out from no where.

Erik thought for a moment, the only things that would cause interest; the mask left behind and the Punjab lasso. The latter made him worry some, but he waved her off simply, after all, it would make an interesting read in the paper. "No need for concern. It only renders it safe for you too stroll about, and yes, I will be fine. Endurance and all that." He waved his hand carelessly for drama effect as he finished his sentence. Erik nestled back down into the bedding, planting the unblemished side of his face into the pillow and breathed deeply, sending strains of hair flickering about his face. He looked up at her indolently, feeling quite drowsy and annoyed with the unpleasant feeling of blood, along with the helplessness.

Meg couldn't help but be enamored with his winsome-like actions, which had not altered even as his distortion was shown. She smiled, and flinched subtly as she realized she was staring. Surely, he would think it was because of his deformation. She thought for a moment, then decided it was stupid to randomly announce she thought him appealing, just so he wouldn't think otherwise, even if it was true. She would embarrass herself. Suppressing a sigh, Meg quickly strolled off to grab her keys and make her way out.

Meg tottered down the stairs, staring at the fuss as she did so. The men-of-the-law had begun to move the bodies. She watched as one corpse was unstuck, it seemed to almost be glued down by coagulated blood. Bits of the flesh still remained on the pavement as it was ripped from the ground. The underside of the arms of Erik's victim looked almost fillet now. Meg grimaced and looked away, beginning to walk faster, hoping she would simply be ignored. Fortunately, that was the case.

* * *

†Yes, they had muffins. 

That's it for chapter four! More to some, probably on Saturday sometime. I loveth reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: I rather enjoyed writing this chapter. - Full of Meg and thinking and random people. No Erik though, sorry all. Now, question. Is the Key necessary in every chapter? It's annoying me somehow. Answering now!

**Zeech:** Yes, I like typing gore. I am flattered that you enjoy this so much! Now, to answer your question. No wig, I think he looks fine without his mask and all that. I was reading reviews in my computer class, and startled laughing when I read 'Erik is such a bastard.' Ha, yes. It's it great though? Good thing Meg is tough.  
**ashanti01:** Different is good, and ...maybe.. your just going to have to find out!  
**snowfox2:** Thank you, thank you.

**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Meg left the ballet school with aching legs and a good moral put down from Madame Friar. After lying that she was merely sick and could not make it, Madame Friar, the owner of the school, saw clearly she was lying. Meg's lie was followed by a long speech and being told to go on and get to work. Despite it all, Meg was glad. Madame Friar had let her teach, and she received her pay. Smiling, she made her way down the street, winding through the other individuals making their way to their own destination.

Meg turned and entered a small store, the brass bell ringing above to announce her arrival.

"Meg! My dear, I have not seen you in ages!" A jovial voice cried. The owner was a stout woman whom was briskly walking toward Meg, her long, ginger colored hair swaying behind her.  
"Madame Morrell," Meg smiled cheerfully, "It has only been but a month." Meg knew Madame Morrell since she was a little girl; her and her mother had been acquaintances for quite some time. Madame Morrell had been unhappily married for years, though her husband had died recently. He left behind a rather large sum of †marks, which she acquired, and spent much more wisely then her departed husband.  
"Ah, a months! Too long, dear. Come! You need a fresh gown? I have one I believe you will simply adore." Madame Morrell grabbed Meg's wrist and began to pull her toward a rack of neatly hung, formal dresses. Meg stared in surprise for a moment, then gingerly tugged back, indicating Madame Morrell to stop.  
"No, no, Madame. I am not in need of a new gown."  
"Oh? Well, what is it that you came for?" Madame Morrell stared at her questionably, looking quite confused.  
"Madame.. I would like to purchase a dress shirt. I would want a coat as well.. but they're fairly expensive I could not possibly afford-"  
"A dress shirt?" Madame Morrell interrupted with a high, excited voice, which caused Meg to jerk away and stare as if she was mad. "My dear! You have a suitor?! Dear, you must tell me his name!" She cried, then tailed off, looking disappointed, "I suppose your just being ††coquettish? Poor dear, you must learn to settle down. I cannot count the many men you have brushed off.."  
Meg's surprise drained from her face as Madame Morrell spoke. Meg now stared dully at her, as she listened to Madame Morrell finish with an overly dramatic sigh and went to retrieve a dress shirt.  
"Indubitably.. I adore breaking the hearts of young †††beaux." Meg murmured listlessly and followed her.  
"Meg ,dear, are you feeling well? You look somewhat ill.." Madame Morrell said with a worried expression, looking over at Meg.  
"No, Madame. I am merely tired."  
Meg reached for the dress shirt Madame Morrell held out to her and clenched it to her chest. She began to retrieve the appropriate marks for said shirt but stopped as Madame Morrell reached for her hand and patted it in a friendly gesture. Meg shook her head and opened her mouth to retort but was hushed by the firm expression on Madame Morrell's face.  
"Thank you very much.." Meg said gratefully and smiled at her, then nodded a farewell and made her way toward the door.  
"And dear, try to refrain from throwing this one out!" Madame Morrell called after her, waving. Meg felt heat rush to her face, although she was fond of Madame Morrell, she wished she would hush when it come to her uneventful love life. She reached for the door and the bell sounded again.

"Madame, believe me, leaving will be his choice."

Meg stopped momentarily on her way home to purchase wraps for Erik's wound. Feeling sure that they would aid in the healing process. She frowned as she walked, thinking of how she would need to soon gather her courage and ask the questions floating about in her mind. She was quite displeased at the thought that Erik would soon recover, and even her pleads would not convince him to stay. A confused expression came across her face. She wasn't sure what her last thought of 'stay' referred to. '_Clearly, staying would mean forever._' She nodded as if someone else was telling her this, though, she confused herself again, surely she couldn't be.. In _love_.. with him. "Intrigued." She said aloud, then changed the subject in her mind to refrain from puzzling herself further. Would Erik even answer her questions? He would certainly be stubborn and probably ignore her. Or glare at her. Meg scoffed at the thought, realizing he would act unkindly toward her, in what way that would be, she wasn't sure. She didn't take time in questioning why he was so callous.

The sun was beginning to retreat as Meg neared her apartment. She glanced around curiously at the law, whom where still present on the street. There was less then when Meg had left in the morning. The staircase to her apartment was in view, and she gasped as she saw a detective making his way to her door. Startled, she ran forward, tightening her grip on her things.

"Excuse me Monsieur! Monsieur!" She waved a free hand and began to bound up the staircase, stopping six stairs in front of him. He was a tall, ruff man, whom Meg thought looked curiously stereotypical when it came too detectives. He raised a brow at her questionably, then gestured boringly toward her door.  
"You live here Madame?"  
"Yes, I do. May I help you with something?" Meg didn't bother to correct him.  
"Your apartment is rather close too a crime scene. Four dead. I am sure you saw as you walked by.."  
"Of course, I was quite worried." Meg did her best to expression concern.  
"Heard anything this week? Shout, yells? Around two night ago maybe?"  
"Oh, no. Nothing I would have taken into account." She shook her head. The detective stared at her doubtingly, then picked at his teeth with his fingernail.  
"Yeah, well that's what everyone has said.. Hm, What do you have there?" He said, looking down at the dress shirt.  
"This is for my.. husband." She smiled with poor poise, the detective just continued to stare at her suspiciously. With a nervous smiled, Meg curtseyed subtly and began to slide past him.  
"Excuse me, I am being expected. I bid you well on your case." Meg reached for her keys with one hand, looking quite ridiculous in the process. Straightening up, she unlocked the door, still feeling the detective's eyes on her. She hurried in and closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath as she locked the doors. Sighing in relief, she leaned against the door, tossing the dress shirt onto the side table, the wraps tumbling down onto the floor. Sudden exhaustion passed over her and she slide down the door a bit.  
"No wonder mother always knew when I was up to something; I am an awful liar."

* * *

†Marks: A good way to say 'money' when you don't know a single thing about the money terms in France. (Internet was not helpful. Damn it.)  
††A woman who makes teasing sexual or romantic overtures; a flirt  
†††Plural: 1. The boyfriend of a woman or girl. 2.A dandy; a fop. 

Chapter five! Yay! Expect an update.. Sunday night, or Monday. I have this gap in the story to fill.. gah. I'll think of something. More pointless amusing situations, maybe?  
Oh, I also didn't check this over much. I was in a lazy mood, sorry for any typos.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: Oh, the drama! Angsty chapter! Fun stuff.

**Zeech:** Thank you! I try to keep Meg on the border of good vigor - and reasonable daintiness. I know you've pointed it out before, but every time you do so it assures me my writing isn't slipping, so it's fine. If that even made sense. o.o  
I've seen the movie twice. First time was for quiet and concentration. Second was for laughing at stuff and pointing out strange/incorrect things; such as Erik's hair.. it all resulted in my mother yelling at me to shut up.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

After a few minutes of resting against the door, Meg decided it was time she move, despite how her body protested. She pushed herself off the door and scrambled to pick up the dress shirt, bending down gingerly to retrieve the wraps as well. She glanced about the lounge room, then made her way into her room quietly in case Erik was sleeping. If he wasn't, then he was acting as if Meg was non-existent. His back was turned toward the door, and he didn't stir as she entered. She stared at him momentarily, then placed the wraps on her dresser.

"...Monsieur?" Meg turned back to look at him, now getting slightly annoyed. "Feel free to reply." No answer. "For heavens sake! Erik, you are clearly not sleeping." She tossed the shirt at him angrily.  
"Getting yourself into a tizzy.." Erik grumbled, grabbing back to get the shirt. "I was nearly asleep.."  
"Nearly? Then you could have answered me sooner." Meg huffed, "Now, are you still keen on sleeping, or would you like to clean yourself up?"  
"Mademoiselle, are you hinting something?" Erik mumbled indolently and shifted, beginning to push himself up carefully.  
"Yes, but bluntly, you smell horrible." Meg said with a hint of tease, she watched Erik maneuver slowly to sit up, feeling bad, she walked toward him, "Can I help?" She reached forward to help before he could answer, but Erik jerked away, wincing as he did so. Meg stared at him dejectedly for a moment, then firmly grabbed him arm and helped him up anyways. Erik huffed angrily, but as he tried to pull away he nearly stumbled over from sudden lightheadedness. Meg insisted on Erik using her for support as they traveled to the restroom.

Meg reached for the doorknob and Erik grabbed the side of the door as it opened. He limped in and paused, taking a deep breath.  
"Are you sure, you will be able to..?" Meg trailed off, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks. Erik turned and gave her a look that showed he thought Meg brainless.  
"Honestly, Mademoiselle." He rolled his eyes and shut the door in her face. Meg stared blankly for a moment, then growled subtly in anger.  
"I hope you drown in there.." She grumbled under her breath and walked off, sulking.

Meg lost track of time; she had been sitting in her bay window and reading the same book she had been for the past month or so until she nodded off. Her head was bowed toward her shoulder as she dozed. She grumbled softly, the sound of someone yelling waking her. Meg shifted and pushed herself up into a sitting position, still groggy from waking. She jumped up quickly, realizing the voice was in panic, slurring between gasps of air and much closer then comprehended. She sprinted to the bathroom door and tried to open it; it was locked. "Erik! Dear lord, what is going on?! I did not mean it! Erik!" She yelled, hitting the door with her shoulder. Suddenly, the door jolted open, crashing into the wall from Meg's force. The panic stopped, and Meg stared into a normal looking restroom. Nothing out of the ordinary. Shaking faintly, she mumbled Erik's name again, and what responded was chilling laughter from her room. Meg waited as everything processed, then turned and ran into her room, fury in her eyes.

Erik was lying on his side facing her, a smirk on his face. He began to kick his feet, ignoring the pain, as Meg entered the room. "Erik! Erik!" He cried in a mimicked girlish voice. He burst out in another fit of laughter, though was clearly trying to contain himself.  
"How dare you! You had me frightened to death!" Meg screamed, pointing angrily at him, remembering the many tricks Erik could carry out. He merely laughed again, then mouthed 'oh-no' sarcastically and covered his face with his hands in mock fear.  
"You heartless, boorish, sadistic man!" Meg screamed, and was instantly taken back by her own comment. She covered her mouth quickly as Erik laughed coldly, removing his hands from his face and gesturing her to continue.  
"Please, Mademoiselle. Don't stop. I would like to know, exactly, what you _think_ I am."  
"Monsieur, ...Erik, I did not mean it. You shouldn't have done that, you upset me.." Meg mumbled from behind her hand, reaching to grab the wraps. "Here let me help-" She was interrupted by a bitter huff of laughter.

Meg stared down guiltily at the wrap in her hand, picking at it uncomfortably with her fingernail. Meg didn't mean anything by the words, but for some reason she felt so terrible for saying them. Erik could have easily insulted her, but the point was, he wouldn't. Although he did insensible things, he never called her one insulting word. How was it Erik could make her feel so at fault when he was the one who pulled the awful stunt?  
"..I met a detective today.."  
"Thrilling."  
"He asked about the homicides.. I do not think I fooled him well.."  
"Pity."  
"Do you suppose he will come to question me again?"  
"Most likely."

Meg continued to stare down, fiddling with the wrap in her hand. She glanced up at Erik as he was lifting his new dress shirt, inspecting his wound, which was beginning to bleed again. Sighing, but determined, Meg quickly strode over to Erik and reached out in a motion to begin to dress his wound. Erik snarled and, with surprising speed, flung his arm at Meg hitting her in the stomach. She tumbled back and fell, looking up at Erik with a mixture of shock and horror. Erik stared at her, breathing deeply, a furious expression on his face. "Don't you think, you have done enough?" He spat through clenched teeth. He watched as tears began to swell in her eyes, and waited for her to run from the room in terror. Surely, _that_ would have her finding him insufferable. Instead, Meg jumped from the floor and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as sobs racked her body.

Erik stiffened, staring blankly in surprise, unsure of what had just happened. Meg continued to cling to him, knees on the floor. Her face was buried into the front most part of his uninjured side, and she continued to weep. He gave the back of her head an unsure look and he repressed a sigh. Though, as seconds past, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. He figured he had gone too far in amusing himself. Meg, be she stronger then most women, still had an emotional limit. His eyes softened and he gently reached forward, running his hand through her fair hair, hesitating as she stirred. She continued to sniffle as Erik gently brushed the tips of his fingers across the visible part of her cheek, sweeping her hair behind her ear in the process.

After time Meg had quieted and Erik was almost sure she had fallen asleep. He shifted and maneuvered to pick up and lay Meg on the bed, jaw clenched from the pain shooting through him. He watched as her chest rose and fell with her breathing. She soon grumbled and turned over. Erik walked awkwardly to retrieve the wrappings Meg had dropped. Picking them up, he moved over to the vanity mirror and moved it a bit. Then, lifting this dress shirt carefully and biting the edge to hold it up, he began to dress his wound.

When Erik finished, relief washed over him. Dressing his own wound was more of a challenge then he had thought, and certainly painful. Tired, he glanced over at Meg and made him way into the lounge room. Clearly, there was no where for him to sleep. Sighing, he settled down onto the floor, seeing as with his wound, it would be the most restful. He lay uncomfortable for the majority of the night, drifting into sleep randomly.

* * *

I re-read and re-read this chapter. Some things I don't like, but all and all I thought it was okay. Yes, Erik was very mean in this chapter! And in the end he wasn't so mean. I have my reasons for him being this way of coarse, besides that it's just simply fun to type. It wouldn't be explained, but you'll just have to build your own thought on it. It's quite simple really. 

Next update, Monday or Tuesday. I need to finish reading my book, for my teacher forces us to do reports on them. Which annoys me.. but oh well. I'm sure I can make time to update soon. So! Review, please! I beg. It will make me what to update sooner.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

**Authoress' Note: (Read you person you!)** ... -Ahem- Okay! So, I suppose my last chapter was more harsh then I thought it was. I must have lost you. Is the excuse good? It's up to you. I'm sorry if you all are displeased, but I honestly cannot explain it that well. I will try. In this chapter and others. In note; When I started this, I really wanted to focus on the cold, mean, ect. side of Erik.  
On this chapter: Curse logic, for the detective must come back. It wouldn't make sense for him not to. This whole chapter, yeah, didn't go where I planned for it. This is again, one of the chapters I am negative a pone. Bad chapter, bad! But read it anyways!

**Zeech:** Bipolar indeed. lol. In my class, someone shouted, 'What is Bipolar?' and I started cracking up. Ah, one thing that made my Monday good. Damn Mondays.  
**Snowfox2:** The confusion, yes, it's suppose to be there. And trust me, your just as confused as Meg is about that.  
**Gerfan:** Happy you liked it!- And, I have a good knack for updating. Here you go!  
**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.  
' - ' will be shown to indicate a large time lapse.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

A loud _tud, tud;_ Woke Meg from her sleep, restless and lethargic, she stumbled up from her bed. She shuffled to the door, grumbling as she did so.

"I am coming. Please, stop knocking.." She unlocked the locks and opened the door, an expression of unhappiness on her face.  
"Madame." The same ruff voice of the detective yesterday answered. His voice seemed to snap her out of her haze and she shifted uneasily.  
"Oh, hello.." She trailed off, lessening the open area of the door. "What can I do for you at this hour?" She stressed herself to sound tired.  
"Madame.. it's nearly twelve in the afternoon."  
"Really?" Meg glared a bit as the detective shifted to try to look past her. She cleared her throat and his attention returned to her.  
"You mentioned your husband? Can I possibly speak to him?" As the detective spoke, Meg suddenly remembered what had happened last night and felt embarrassed and irritated with herself; why had she flung herself at Erik? '_Meg, you dolt._'  
"Madame..?"  
"Huh? Oh! Sorry Monsieur, I have only just awoken."  
"Your husband?"  
"No, he is.. not here at the present. He leaves at dawn, and returns very late."  
"May I come in?"  
"No. No." Meg cried, then coughed to stop herself. "Let me, go fresh up a bit. I can speak with to outside." She flashed him an uneasy smile and shut the door.

Meg quickly did as she said so, taking a moment to stop in the lounge room and glare at Erik disapprovingly. She grabbed a pen and quickly wrote a note to him, informing she had gone to work and would be back around the same time she was yesterday, and that he could help himself to anything in the house. She continuously underlined the last part, which was '..get into bed!' She placed the pen aside and walked over to Erik, staring down at him, feeling embarrassed even when he was not awake. She shouldn't have acted the way she did. Sighing, she placed the letter in front of him and strode to the door. She opened it carefully and slides out, shutting and locking it behind her. Nervous, Meg glanced at the detective, who motioned for her to lead the way.

"Where are you off to?" The detective questioned, glancing over at her as they walked down the street.  
"To work, Monsieur, why are you-"  
"Please, Luc Fournier." He offered his name, then a silence lingered. Meg knew he was awaiting her to tell him hers, but she had no intention of doing so. "Okay.." The detective broke the silence. "Madame, can you tell me exactly where you where four days ago, at around, six forty?"  
"I was home." She answered stiffly, should she have said other wise?  
"Uh huh.." The detective mumbled. Meg sighed out of impatience, wishing he would go away. Unfortunately for her, he didn't. He actually continued to question her randomly throughout her whole walk, until finally she reached to open the door to the ballet school.  
"Ballet, huh?"  
"Yes, good day now Detective." She hurried in, and shut the door a bit too hard.  
"Good Lord child!" Madame Friar cried and turned to face her. Meg laughed sheepishly and waved limply in response, relieved to be away from the meddlesome detective.

Finally, work was over. True, she still loved to dance, but everything had lost its luster. Now, it was simply a way to receive a salary. Sighing, Meg stepped out of the school, locking up as she did so. She turned, and jolted back.  
"Detective Fournier! Have you been waiting out here all day?" Meg shouted in surprise. The detective looked over at her then flicked his cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out.  
"No, since five I believe. A bit jumpy?" He asked curiously.  
"Are you stalking me?" Meg huffed, forgetting her worry and now annoyed. He was taken back by her comment and laughed gruffly.  
"No Madame, I'm not stalking you."  
".. I have been stalked before; you're definitely stalking." Meg pointed at him listlessly with an unconvinced expression.  
"Really, Madame, I did not mean it to come across as such."  
Meg stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, "Good. Then you will not be following me home I presume?" She turned and began walking, the momentary bravery leaving her. '_Oh, please do not begin following me.'_ A separate pair of footsteps followed her. Meg was unlucky quite a lot lately.  
"Madame, I need to speak to you about my case, maybe I can take you for diner?"  
"I have to get home to my husband." Meg answered shakily.  
"I thought he returned late..?" The detective trailed off on the question sounding wary.  
"Oh! Yes, how could I have forgotten? I suppose I can." Meg answered in an intentional bouncy voice. She cursed the detective in her mind, wanting nothing better to do then to get home.

Meg sat in a dingy sidewalk café, sitting across from Detective Fournier. Meg had her head downcast, but her gaze remained on Detective Fournier, whom seemed to be thinking as well as he sipped at his †demitasse. Why couldn't he go bother someone else about his case? True, Meg harbored the murderer in her apartment, but she wished this detective would have been stupid and gone about his business after Meg told him she knew nothing. It wasn't as if she was going to simply open up and say 'Hey! Monsieur Detective, the murderer is in my apartment. He saved me from certain doom, but I will willingly turn him in. You know, even though I am completely in awe with him. But on the other hand, he is having quite a cavalier attitude.' Well, maybe she should? ..No, that would be mean. But he was mean. Meg glared momentarily; when she got home, there was going to be mass vituperating.  
"Something wrong?" The detective asked, looking at her questionably. Meg snapped out of her thoughts.  
"Oh, uh, thinking." She smiled boredly, and straightened up. "Detective, what was it that you were waiting too ask me?"  
"You're not married, are you?"  
The question threw Meg off, and she seemed dazed for a moment. She then laughed uneasily, "What do you mean, of coarse I am."  
"Mademoiselle, I am not stupid. It is quite clear you are not."  
"That has nothing to do with your case. I insist you do not speak again of my marital status." Meg said sternly, wanting the direction to change in some other direction. He detective raised his hands as if to surrender.  
"Mademoiselle.." He paused, then continued, "How about I buy you a drink?"  
"All right. What do you recommend?" Meg answered quickly, any way to turn the conversation.

Meg stared dully at the detective as he spoke, a glass of ††cognac in her hand. She tapped the table with a finger, barely listening to anything he was saying. He asked her questions, and she answered languorously, beginning to loose track of the discussion. '_Is he even speaking about the case anymore? I bet he isn't.. I am sitting here for nothing. If I get up and leave, would it be suspicious? .._' Meg turned her attention to her drink, '_This is really good.. wonder how much it cost.._'

-

†††"He is a completely loft, honestly. Then-, Detective, are you following me?" Detective Fournier stared at Meg with an awkward expression, surely, the girl must have drunk more then she could handle. No, he _wasn't_ following. Frankly, he had no idea what in the world she was talking about. She started with her childhood and speaking of a mysterious man whom she swore, a bit to loudly, that she was not in love with. Her best friend, whom had married quite awhile ago, scarcely saw her anymore. She then drifted off about how every movement a certain man makes is eloquent. Even when he lashed out at her. Then, she got angry and was talking about how terrible he is, but is sure he's just doing that because he's in a weak position and is guarding himself. Much like a wounded animal. Though, all of that was said much more disjointed. "I know.." She continued, despite him not answering, "he hadn't been in society to long, much too shushed about everything. Uncongenial for humanity. He does not know how to become in it again." Meg waved her hand limply gesturing around them, then her voice quieted, "Especially after what happened." The detective was lost for a moment, trying to make sense of her. He then smirked a bit, receiving a lost smile from Meg.  
"How about I ask you some questions?" He said softly, taking advantage of the situation that he wished he'd of thought up earlier. Meg stared at him suspiciously, then shrugged. "All right, first, your name?"  
"Meg! Meg Giry, that one was too easy, Monsieur detective."  
"All right, more difficult. What do you know about the murders by your apartment?"  
Meg stared at him blankly, then made a strange growling like noise. "Do not be such a moron. I told you before."  
The detective grumbled, slightly surprised by her answer. "We should go."  
"Magnificent idea!" Meg cried, then staggered to get up. The detective stared at her with some concern; glad she could at least walk herself. She began to walked off mumbling, "That was not even a question..."

Detective Fournier insisted on walking Meg home. Little conversation was exchanged; Meg seemed to be more drained then inebriated. She walked with a bit of sway, but the detective concluded that she wasn't nearly as drunk as he had thought. He assisted her up the stairs some, and stopped at her door. She clumsily retrieved her keys, and opened her door, walking in quietly. The detective placed his hand on the door lightly, "Mademoiselle Giry, would you like me to help you inside?" He was taken back as she laughed, much like a little girl. She turned and faced him, vigor playing across her face.  
"No, Detective, you must not. The Phantom of the Opera is here." She then smiled broadly, as if she had said something clever, and- closed the door in his face.

"Lost her mind." The detective mumbled, staring at the door with a stunned expression.

* * *

†A small cup of strong black coffee or espresso.  
††Kind of French drink. Wine-like.  
†††Yes, drunk. In the area Meg is in, I don't think it to be so unheard of. 

This chapter is actually longer then my past others, which where only two pages. This one is three. Oh yeah. Nice criticism please! Honestly, I think I need it badly. Also, ideas for future chapters? I can use those as well. If not, I believe this will be over sooner then I thought it. Update; Most likely, Wednesday.  
Next chapter will be more entertaining. Meg has come revenge!  
So, Review, review! Pwease?


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: This one is short, yes. But it was amazingly fun to type! Pain, shouting, and revenge. Dun, dun, dun! Thanks for the reviews guys!

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Meg crept quickly through the house; the blinds had been left down, shrouding her in a subtle darkness. She jolted, tripping over her own feet and tittering into her hand, glancing around as if to see if anyone else had noticed. Whirling in a quick circle to process her surroundings, Meg turned her attention back on walking. The task was quite hard considering she had to fight from laughing every step she took, for, reasons unknown. She stopped for a moment; blinking blankly as her eyes began to blur over and she yawed drowsily. Slumping forward, she began walking again, griping the molding to her bedroom as she went, feeling the room swirling around her. Squinting, she began to move toward the bed. Meg crawled on gradually, lying with her knees tucked under her. She let out a deep breath, then twitched with start as she realized someone was in the bed as well, then remembered a certain someone. She furrowed her brow with sulk, huffing slightly. "Monsieur Opera Ghost, you take up to much room.." Her voice slurred slightly, as she nudged Erik with her hip.

Instead of replying, Erik had simply sighed loudly and turned over. Meg growled and shifted her weight to one side, reaching out with one leg to prod Erik. She jabbed him in the back, to intoxicated to realize her mistake. Erik cried out and quickly jerked forward, tumbling to the floor with a heavy thump. Meg stared for a moment at the place where Erik once was and shrugged, "You did not need to move over that much." She mumbled, laughing stupidly. Erik used the bed for support as he struggled up.

"You could have simply _requested_ for me to leave the bed." He said viciously, glaring at her. Meg smirked, sitting up rapidly, "But it was fun to watch you fall!"  
"It is good to see you find others pain enjoyable." He said coldly. The intoxication seemed to drain from Meg at his remark. She realized what she had set out to do and found the sheer irony in his comment.  
"Pardon!? Oh, Monsieur, how dare you accuse me of such an act! Completely hypocritical!" Meg yelled angrily.  
"Oh.. yes, that is right. I had forgotten for the moment who the uncouth one was." Erik mumbled plainly unconcerned as he waved her off. The anger drained from Meg's face for a moment, but returned as she shook her head and stumbled off the bed, standing upright.  
"No. Your- you're going to listen to me." She said, nodding.  
"Is that so Mademoiselle?" He responded listlessly, giving her a dubitable look.  
"You know, you act like your-" she stopped as she stumbled, glancing at the floor as she did so, "so superior. You think you're so _alone_. Don't you Erik?" Meg stopped some feet away from him. Erik stared at her, face vacant of expression. Meg laughed coldly. Erik, if he wasn't trying so hard to appear empty, could have received a chill up his spine. Meg stepped back gesturing around herself. "Really, your not the only one who knows what it is like to be alone, but you would not understand that. Would you?"  
"It is not a matter of understanding, it is a lack of caring." He said simply, shifting on his other foot in an attempt to lessen the pain from his wound.  
"Oh! Of coarse! You want nothing to do with humanity!" Meg shouted mockingly.  
"Humanity wants nothing to do with me!" Erik snarled furiously, "I have gotten use to that! I do not need a little girl caring for me! I do not need mortality's pointless sympathy! I do not need anything anymore! So really, no matter how heart felt this conversation is, I remain unswayed. You are wasting your time." Anger trailed off in his voice, and he heard himself begin to sound pathetic. He almost winced at the tone.

Meg opened her mouth to talk, but found herself at a loss for words. Not because she felt sorry for Erik, on the contrary, in her current drunken condition, she thought it would have been fun to continue. Sadly for her, she really had nothing else to day. Well, consciously she did, but she wasn't necessarily in her right mind at the moment. Erik's expression seemed relatively angry, but Meg's vision was also quite impaired. Maybe there was some hint of sadness on his face? With that, Meg felt the sudden urge to touch him. She began to walk toward him, much like a small child whom was in utter wonderment, reaching forward for something unknown. Erik stepped back, staring at her oddly. "What in the world are you doing Mademoiselle?" He questioned, trying to sound disinterested. Meg's wonderment faded when he spoke, she answered with a simple, "Hm." Suddenly, a great idea struck her.

"Monsieur.." Meg trailed off, beginning to move toward him again. She stopped in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders softly. "You are, very beautiful." She frowned abruptly, lifting one of her hand and waving it as if to brush the idea aside, "I do not know what I am saying. You're very _handsome_. Well, you can be pretty too." She gently lifted her hand and tapped the right side of his face as if to encourage the words. Erik stiffened, staring down at her with a subtle expression of panic. What was going on?

Meg wrapped her arms around his neck, smirking into his chest. She fought the sneer off her face, then lifted her lips to his right ear. "Sleep with me." She whispered, feeling Erik jolt in her embrace. Meg used her weight to swirl Erik, pushing him onto the bed. Erik was completely dumbstruck, which resulted in his body complying with Meg's movements. As he fell onto his back, he grimaced from a shot of pain dancing through his body. He tried to sit up, but was pushed back down with Meg's weight on top of him. She smiled down at him seductively, and placed her hands roughly on his chest. Erik was even more lost now, wasn't she just yelling at him a minute ago? Actually, he had no idea what to think. The thought of getting the hectic girl off him had not occurred in his mind. Which, in itself scared him. He needed to get her off, now. Erik struggled to sit up, for once having no idea how to respond to his current situation. He, being who he was, never expected one such as this. Meg let out a small giggle, one that didn't suit her very well. "Nah uh." She muttered provocatively, pushing Erik back down gently.  
"M-mademoiselle. Have you been drinking?" Erik stared at her, absolutely uncomfortable. He could feel and hear his own rapid pulse as his nervousness grew. Meg stared at him, with the same suggestive look she had had seconds before, when suddenly, she grinned.

"Not so much." She said cheerfully. Raising her hands from him. She tapped his cheeks with each hand as if to an invisible beat then laughed. She then shifted her weight to roll off, though, with the help of Erik's forceful shove, she rolled a bit too far. With a small, child-like "Wheeeeee" she slipped from the bed. Erik sat up, chest heaving, staring in anger at the point where Meg had disappeared. Moments later, she reappeared, smiling in triumph. "See monsieur! You are not the only one whom is able to play mind games!"

* * *

Keep in mind, she is drunk. 

Chapter eight! I like this one. Probably not where any of you would have dreamt it going. I figured I wouldn't have the over all emotion to serious, for that can be for later on. I need to take a creative break, which, won't be long. Probably update Friday. I need to gather thoughts and stuff for this to go along.  
Now! I beg of you, anyone whom is reading this. Please review and telleth me what you think! Reviews amuse me and I love reading them. I need my ego fed!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: Okay! Off time was a bit longer then I thought. Well, because I wasted a whole day doing a stupid report that wasn't due until next month. I am stupid. Yes, anywho! Chapter, kind of short. Sorry. Wish I had time to respond to all you wonderful people whom reviewed! Happiness much. Thanks. Now, the reason I'm going so fast is because I want to post this before I go off to clean the house and then explore the world of Trader Joes with my mother. So! I hope you enjoy this.  
**Key:**  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Erik glared at Meg, though; he had no idea what to think. Surely, the girl had to be drunk. Still, he couldn't help but be furious. The distress had not yet cleared, and he was still breathing agitatedly.

"Vengeance is mine!" Meg announced loudly, looking proud of herself before letting out a small "woo" and grabbing hold of the bedding to steady herself. Erik let out an unintentional scoff and looked away, ignoring her for now. He couldn't imagine her sojourning about in some appalling bistro, mingling with drunkards. He sighed; had he distressed Meg so much? Thinking back, she definitely deserved her revenge. He glanced over at Meg, whom currently looked like she was going to be sick. Erik fought off the impending feeling of pity and with that, he changed thoughts. Meg did not seem like the type of woman who would drink away troubles. Erik turned to look at her, standing up with a panicked expression.

"Meg! When you left from work, what exactly did you do?" Erik said quickly, forgetting formality.  
"Hmm..." Meg seemed to have forgotten her nausea when Erik spoke to her, "Monsieur detective, he followed me," her voice became shushed, "I told him not to, I swear."  
"Yes.. I believe you.." Erik said dully, humoring her, "Now, did this said 'detective' take you anywhere?"  
"To dinner! I told him I needed to see my husband. We had drinks, I did, and he was awfully unexciting." Meg mumbled, now looking bored.  
"Did you tell him anything? Anything important?" Erik was getting impatient.  
Meg made a small tisk noise, "He said things about your murdering, oh, he asked my name!"  
"And you answered, did you not?" Erik stared flatly at her, already knowing the answer.  
"Of course! That one was easy." Meg cried happily.

"Wonderful." Erik replied, rolling his eyes, "And you said nothing about me? My name? If you knew anything about the murders?"  
"No. No. No." Meg answered, not quite comprehending his questions, but deciding to answer them as such anyways. Erik sighed and sat down again at the edge of the bed.  
"If you did, he'd have to die."  
"Ehhh." Meg grimaced in response to his death comment. Then, without warning, she turned her head and vomited. Erik's face turned up in disgust as she did so.  
"How pleasant.." He mumbled sarcastically.

Meg stared at the ground, looking completely distraught. "..Look what I did to my carpet.." She garbled, wiping her mouth with her hand and looking over at Erik pitifully.

"Let's get you to the restroom." Erik said sighing and standing. He moved over to Meg, helping her up gingerly. He began to escort her to the restroom when Meg groaned and lifted her hand to her mouth. Her body jolted and she quickly flung out her arm to stop Erik then quickly scurried off. She slide into the door, a large _bang _echoing out into the apartment, followed by the sound of spewing liquid.

Erik stood in the restroom doorway, staring at Meg with an expression of mixed aversion and pity. His back was aching, and he was no longer in the mood to pay attention to the careless child. Sighing tiredly, he leaned against the molding, his own thoughts alarming him. He was being quite cruel for no particular reason, to a girl whom had been caring for him for almost a week. At that moment, Meg tensed up and she lowered herself down to the sink. Her body heaved multiple times but that was all. A pitiful whine left her throat and she sunk to the floor. Erik moved over to her gracefully, kneeling down next to her. He placed his hands softly on her shoulders.

"You will be fine now. Dry heaves; your stomach is empty. Come, you must rest now." Erik whispered quietly, trying to soothe her. Meg shuttered, feeling intolerably weak from the strain her stomach had just gone through. Her throat ached and she had the most terrible taste in her mouth. Meg felt herself being pulled off the ground, though, before Erik could assist her further, she grasped the side of the sink and turned it on, reaching out to collect water. She sucked the water out of her hand, swooshing it about in her mouth. She spat and then repeated, but this time wishing to drink the water. Before she could, Erik reached forward quickly and tenderly placed his hand just under her mouth, fingertips brushing over her bottom lip subtly. Meg stopped, looking quite surprised, however, seconds later Erik removed his hand and gestured toward the sink. "Do not drink, you will only render yourself sick again." Meg nodded stupidly and complied. She looked downward, wiping her sleeve across her mouth. '_I must look a sight.'_ She thought, now feeling quite embarrassed.

Erik ushered her to her room, assisting as best he could without hurting himself enormously. He placed his hands gingerly on her waist to help her onto the bed. Meg sighed and slumped down onto the bed. Erik removed his hands as she turned on her back to look at him. She smiled at him momentarily and looked as if she was about to speak, but she seemed to have changed her mind and closed her eyes. Erik was glad to know Meg was not wearing a corset,as hecould tell when he placed his hands on her waist. He could only imagine the how much worse the strain would have been for the girl. Trying not to smile redundantly, he looked away momentarily, not sure what to do next. Erik moved away from the bed a bit, lifting his dress shirt to examine the condition of his wound. All seemed right, it had no begun bleeding again, though it certainly hurt much more then when he was resting. Sighing, he sat at the end of the bed, his head in his hands.

Regret passed over him and he began to feel guilty once more for the way he had treated the deceased Madame Giry's only daughter. True, he had not wished to have stayed this long. To be cared for like a child. Though, he knew, despite how he tried to deny it, some part of him enjoyed being taken care of. He had wanted to make Meg hate him, deciding it was much easier to simply let everybody detest him. Because that is basically what the world desires; something, _someone_ to ridicule. Meg was a strange sort of girl. Why had she run to him when he had lashed out at her? Despite his own astuteness, he decided he could ask her, before his certain departure. Erik looked over at Meg, whom even in her slumber, continued to look unhappy. It was then, in a mislaid conclusion, Erik decided it was the previously mentioned detective's fault. After all, he would surely continue to pursue Meg. To interrogate her to get to him. He would simply stress her out beyond her limit, for Erik doubted Meg would ever intentionally tell the detective anything.

Erik would definitely keep that dim-witted, intrusive, sleuth out of his, and Meg's, business. Why had the police even placed a detective on such a case? Snorting out of annoyance, Erik glared aimlessly. The lives of those thugs should have been filed without significance. He sighed, now realizing how tired he was. Erik laid down carefully, his back turned toward Meg. Erik flinched slightly; remembering Meg was lying on the bed as well. He began to sit up then hesitated. Surely, Meg wouldn't mind, would she? Erik would have been fine on the floor once again; sleeping conditions weren't much of an issue to him. Though, his aching body decided otherwise.

He drifted off into a heavy sleep moments later.

* * *

Errors? I know, probably. Again, the fastness of the typing. Barfing? Yes, bad side effect to drinking. I had the stomach flu on Christmas, so I think I depicted it well. Much to your distaste? Anyways, Next chapter will be much more exciting for Erik is getting protect of Meg. Update? Maybe tomorrow. Probably Monday. Okay! Going now! Review please!! I will.. love you. o.O Yes. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: Update! I have no idea why it seems like this is late. Because it's not! I updated Saturday! Anyways. I am coming down with a terrible cold.. my throat is killing me. But I'm in a wonderful mood! Dancing around in my room to The Pretenders! Woo! Yes, now, anyone see Robert Englund's POTO? Quite hilarious. Hilarious in a 'wow, this is so stupid it is great!'. Filled with pointless gore, and Erik slicing off people's flesh.. and heads. Some icky parts, not to bad. Just, don't pay more then ten dollars for this movie. Not worth it, unless of course, you enjoy making fun of stuff.

Answering reviews! Old and new.

**purplepoepleeater:** Yes, fear her!  
**diagram12345:** Oh, I know, it was a bit short. But this one is long! I made up for it.  
**snowfox2:** Reminds me of waffles. Ego waffles. Thanks! Glad I could make you laugh. Thanks for the lengthy review! I enjoy yours.  
**Zeech:** Go _farther_? While she's drunk? How wrong. lol. I hope I understood you correctly. Or I just made myself seem stupid.  
**Nako-chan:** Flattering.  
**Phantom's Fallen Angel**: Much thanks! I'm glad you enjoy reading it!  
**gerfan:** Nope, he did sleep on the bed. But! He didn't do it to be mean.. he just kinda went.. flop and slept.  
**Orli's Eeps Chica: **Well, hopefully you find this! No, not getting sick of it! I love the people that comment on every chapter. Glad to be reassured by another pessimist, and happy you enjoy Erik's sadistic-ness as much as I do.**  
**  
**Key:  
**†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.  
'_This_' will be thoughts, and it should be easy to tell who is thinking what.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Meg woke with a shiver, feeling warm air against her cheek. She grumbled slightly, making a movement to rub her cheek but misjudged the strength and ended up slapping herself in the face. She flinched and mumbled, blinking repeatedly to adjust her blurred vision. Her stomach felt exceedingly empty and she winced as a pain shot through it. Meg yearned for something to drink more then eat. The thought of eating made her feel like vomiting again. But, if she did get something in her stomach, would she just be sick again? '_That is what Erik had said earlier.. Erik?_' Meg looked over, jolted, and gasped slightly when she turned and saw him next to her, the affable side of his face hidden. She let out a deep sigh and slumped back down, cursing Erik for scaring her. Even if he wasn't aware of it. For a fleeing moment, she was worried about what had happened last night. Then, as the memories pasted over her, she was relieved she had not drunk more then she did.

She looked over listlessly at Erik for a moment, then sighed again and rolled up and out of bed. Nausea quickly came over her and she swiftly pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself. "What time is it?" Meg spoke aloud, not quite realizing she did so. She moved forward cautiously, going forward to her dresser and retrieving a clean day dress. Meg paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to ease the pain in her head. She then turned and made her way to the restroom.

Meg exited the restroom, hair wet and sticking to her clean, soft, mauve day dress. She stumbled a bit as she made her way back to her room, pausing in the doorway momentarily, glancing over at Erik who now seemed to be awake. She walked forward to her dresser, debating if she should continue to be angry with him.

"Mademoiselle, how are you feeling?" Erik asked suddenly. Meg swirled to face him with a surprised expression. She not expected Erik to speak first.  
"Quite woozy actually." She commented plainly, retrieving †frou-frous from her dresser.  
"To be expected, you have not gone and eaten something?"  
"No, I listen to you." She winced subtly at her own words, not liking the way she worded her response. Erik responded with a "hm" and turned over in the bed, standing up slowly. She turned to look at him, placing her hands on her hips. "Am I allowed to eat now?" Meg tried to sound angry. Erik raised a brow, staring at her blankly.  
"If you enjoy vomiting.." He said while yawning. He then stretched, glancing over at her; "Of course, you are going to try and eat anyways, aren't you?"

Meg blinked blankly, then shrugged. "_You _need something to eat something Monsieur. Do you want something?"  
"I am not hungry."  
"Do you have an eating disorder of some sort?" Meg asked suspiciously.  
"No." Erik turned and faced her with a weird expression that made Meg laugh. "What?" He insisted, beginning to sound angry.  
"Nothing. You look-" Meg stopped, "Nothing." She smiled sheepishly and walked off, deciding that finishing the sentence would surely insult him.

Erik watched Meg leave the room, then sighed. Glad she had left; the atmosphere was beginning to become awkward. He walked causally to the vanity mirror to check his wound again. He lifted his shirt, examining the wraps, which were stained with dried blood. Meg walked in looking quite out of it, stopping suddenly when noticing Erik. "Bleeding, are you?"  
"No, I need to redress the wound though."  
"Let me do it for you!" Meg announced happily, though she swayed a bit, grimacing. "I am going to end up being sick on myself."  
"You already have, well, on the floor."  
"Really!" Meg snorted out of anger, "Now I am going to have to clean it up."  
"Would make sense, you are the one who did it." Erik said, wincing as he began to peel off the medical tape. Meg walked to him and smacked his hand softly. Erik jolted back some, glaring at her. Meg simply smiled in response whilst placing a hand on his side, edging it along the tape as she peeled it off with the other hand. She yanked the last bit off quickly, causing Erik to cringe.  
"Careful!" He snarled while Meg began to lift the dressing delicately off his wound.  
"I believe you have been through worse." Meg said simply, in an attempt to tease him. Erik glared down at her mechanically as she grabbed a clean dressing off the dresser and kneeled down to redress the wound.

When Meg had finished, she smoothed her hand over the dressing and moved away as Erik lowered his shirt. "Good boy." She said in jest, smiling at him. Though, the smile faded from her lips as Erik rolled his eyes. "A bit serious today?"  
"You misunderstand. We merely have a different sense of humor." He replied matter-of-factly as she began to walk off.  
"You want something to eat?"  
"You have already asked me that."  
"I am repetitive." She called from the restroom, retrieving a brush. Erik was about to reply when a hollow _thud, thud_ came from the front door. They were both silent, a dead quiet lingering about in the apartment. The knocking sounded again, replied by the soft sound of Meg's footsteps. Erik strolled into the lounge room with grace, standing aside to avoid being seen if the door was opened widely.

Meg unlocked the door slowly and opened it a crack. A husky voice mumbled 'mademoiselle' and all the color seemed to drain from Meg's face. "Detective.." Meg said nervously, her voice cracking uneasily.  
"Mademoiselle Giry, I came to check on you. May I come in?" The detective asked, placing his hand on the door and beginning to open it while Meg stared dumbly. Realizing his motion, Meg repeated 'no' a few times and attempted to close the door, obviously failing to force the detective back.  
"Check on her; I doubt it." Erik murmured quietly, striding toward the door eloquently. He gently shoved Meg aside reaching out and grabbing hold of the detective's throat. Erik pulled him in, shutting the door roughly with his foot in the process and shoving him against the wall. The detective thrashed, gripping Erik's wrist with both of his hands, staring at him in horror and repulsion. The detective's hat tilted in front of his face as a paper fluttered to the ground at his feet.

For a moment, Meg stared at them both, completely disorientated. Everything processed so slowly between the snarls of a Phantom and the chokes of a detective. Meg found it very hard to comprehend much of what was happening.

"Monsieur, I believe you have been an annoyance for a bit to long." Erik hissed, his arm shaking. Every bit of him seemed to ache. He had wished to dispose of the detective when he was recovered, but the opportunity had showed itself too early. Hopefully, the detective would except defeat and die quickly. It soon became obvious that that wouldn't be the case. The detective shifted his hold on Erik's wrist, managing to push his hand back for a moment, taking a deep breath before Erik could clap his hand around his throat again.

Meg glanced from Erik to the detective and ran forward quickly. "Erik, let him go!" She cried, grabbing Erik's arm. "Erik, now! He does not need to die!" Erik glanced over at her, loosing his grip on the detective's throat subtly, clearly disagreeing with her. The detective took the moment to swiftly kick Erik in the stomach. Meg stumbled forward in front of the detective as Erik stumbled back, air leaving his lungs with a huff. Erik quickly lifted his other hand in a motion to punch the detective in face, snarling as he did so. Meg, whom was in the wrong place at the wrong time, staggered as Erik's fist met with the bottom part of her jaw. She yelped loudly, alarming the detective and he reached forward, wrapping his arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. Erik lurched back, looking mortified.

They all stood still, breathing deeply, a small whine escaping Meg's lips. Detective Fournier quickly pulled a small, black revolver out of his frock coat. A small _click _sounded as the detective pushed down the ††hammer with his thumb, aiming the revolver in Erik's direction. His breathing was irregular, still getting back his breath, though his arm was held steady.

Erik seemed distressed; he obviously had not intentionally struck Meg and was upset that he had hit the wrong person. In reality, he had attempted to begin today in a less haughty mood. He moved back some as the detective drew the gun, face twisting slightly from rage. The pain from his wound was becoming unbearable and it was beginning to render him harmless as time slipped on. Meg's face was hidden from view by her hair, her right arm disappearing behind it as she cradled the right side of her jaw.

The detective stared at Erik in repulsion, obviously sickened by his face and no longer afraid. "Mademoiselle, last night, you mentioned The Phantom of the Opera.. I am guessing this is he." The detective growled, motioning his revolved forward a bit to gesture in Erik's direction. Ignoring the detective, Meg looked over at Erik with an indistinct expression. She glanced over at the detective as he tightened his grip about her waist protectively. "I thought as much," he seemed to have guessed Meg to be frightened, "He hurt you." The detective said, beginning to sound regretful. "I wished I could have helped you sooner." He then snarled angrily, now aiming at Erik's head. "He is a murder; no doubt he killed those men."

Erik snorted plainly, throwing up his arms dramatically as he slumped against the wall for support. "Brilliant detective! Murderer indeed! You have caught me," his face twisted up into a cruel smile, "but, you could not have found me; if you not have had the help of an intoxicated young woman, could you of, detective?"

Detective Fournier ignored him. "Meg, I was on a case to find this _homicidal madman_," The detective hissed scornfully, receiving a simple shrug from Erik, "-for three weeks. I know what he's done. Trust me, he would have killed you."  
"Bad police work," Erik mumbled in a singsong tone, "honestly, detective, do they not teach you too jump to conclusions?"  
"Quiet." The detective shouted furiously, seemingly about read to snap. Erik opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he noticed Meg staring at him.

Meg trailed her fingers along her jaw line, staring blankly at Erik. She knew Erik had hit her unintentionally, but was quite stunned by it nonetheless. She glanced down at her waist then looked at the detective, glaring. How dare he suddenly assume she was in danger. Well, she reasoned, the situation would seem to be dangerous to anyone who was not herself and her mother. Meg was positive Erik would never murder her. A man with Erik's short patience, egotism, and stubbornness, who was truly a madman, would have killed her long ago. Actually, Meg was confident Erik was, beyond doubt, a wonderful man, if he could just let down his act a bit. But only a bit, Meg found his sardonic actions quite captivating; strangely.

"Detective, if you would please, let me go." Meg said coldly, rolling her eyes.

* * *

†Under slip of frilly petticoats.  
††The part of a gunlock that hits the primer or firing pin or explodes the percussion cap and causes the gun to fire. 

Chapter ten is up! Hope you enjoy reading it as much I as did writing it!  
Now, review! Pretty pretty please? I beg of you! Because you are so kind?


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.

Authoress' Note: I am quite proud of this chapter! I surprise myself with how quick I can update. I hope you all enjoy this!  
Answering stuffs!

**Panna:** Thanks Panna! My spelling. -sigh- I know. It's the simple stuffs that get me. Black Tears? Well, it is the same writing style, so I suspect it might.  
**gerfan:** No problem. Unfortunately, Meg does not punch him. But read, I'm sure you'll be happy with what she _does_ do!  
**Childofthewilderness:** Thank you! I love Erik/Meg fics as well. How about 'interaction' instead of relationship? That still doesn't seem correct. Oh well! I'm glad you love it.  
**snowfox2:** That! Was hilarious. I think I like hearing what you _don't_ want to happen better now. XD You made me actually want to type something like that, just to mess around. Ha.  
**Doomed Delight:** Yay. o.o  
**Zeech:** Good! Sometimes I doubt my skills at depicting things.  
**Orli's Eeps Chica:** Maybe.. the detective will die. I need him for some stuffs at the end. But who knows? Maybe I can make him get hit by a car? Well, peoples portray her differently. I am happy you like it though!

* * *

****

...Into La Ment

Detective Fournier looked down at Meg in surprise, thinking she wasn't in her right mind. Why should he? Didn't she realize that the only thing between her and this psychopath was himself? "Meg.. what?"  
"You heard me detective, let me go." She said calmly, trying to pull away from him.  
"Meg, you clearly do not understand.."  
"Oh, detective, I am quite sure she understands more then even you." Erik cut in, speaking in a slight mock tone. Meg huffed angrily; getting impatient with the detective whom had not yet released her.  
"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" The detective growled, glancing over at Erik.  
"Completely slipped my mind." Erik responded coolly, smirking subtly.

"Detective!" Meg snarled loudly, gaining both men's attention. Detective Fournier released Meg slowly, though he moved in front of her slightly in a act to protect her. "Detective, lower your weapon, he will not hurt me." Meg said as if it was simple, looking at him flatly. The detective glanced down at her, obviously not going to listen.  
"..Phantom, you're under arrest-"  
"Oh please!" Meg cried, throwing her arms up in irritation.  
"If you obey peacefully, I will not shoot you." The detective continued, ignoring Meg.  
"And.. suppose I do not comply?" Erik asked, acting as if he was truly interested though he already knew the answer.  
"You will make quite a mess all over this pretty young lady's wall."  
"Sounds interesting, shall we see if that _will,_ in fact, be the outcome?"

"Monsieur." Meg looked at Erik sharply, knowing his current condition. Erik torn his eyes away from the detective to look at Meg, glaring slightly. "Please, now detective," Meg turned her attention back on the detective, placing her hands softly on his arm and trying to pull it down, "let us work this out calmly.."  
"Mademoiselle!" He detective growled, jolting his arm away so Meg would let go. "You obviously have no idea how much danger you are in! He's insanely talented, magic tricks and all the such. He's playing you for a fool. Pulled some kind of trick on your mind.."  
"What?" Meg was taken back, "Detective, that is ridiculous!" Meg shoved him aside, wishing to make her way to Erik.

Erik took this chance to quickly run forward and snatch the detective's wrist. He slammed his hand against the wall, causing the detective to cry out and loss his grip on the revolver. It clattered to the floor while Erik and the detective struggled to gain some advantage over the other. Meg watched them for a moment, then hesitantly ran over and snatched up the revolver. She pointed it at the two of them clumsily. Erik glanced over, and a pone seeing this, quickly moved away from the detective, standing aside. The detective, realizing Erik had moved, turned to face Meg. Her arm was shaking slightly.  
"Meg.. put the gun down.." The detective tried to coax her but was silenced by an amused scoff from Erik.

After a few minutes, Erik was becoming impatient. He could see no other way to avoid being caught unless one of them killed the detective.  
"Meg, please, your are not in your right mind.. no one in your position would be, Meg, he is a monster.." The detective started again, stepping toward her. Meg began to step back as the detective advanced, mumbling something under her breath then looked over at Erik with an apologetic expression.

"I cannot shoot him.." She whispered pathetically. The detective began to run at Meg, reaching for the gun. She tightened her grip on it. True, she could not pull the trigger, but she certainly wouldn't let the detective get the upper hand by giving it to him. She cringed, bracing herself to hold off the detective, though, when he never came, she opened her eyes slowly in confusion. Meg looked down at the floor, gasping slightly as she watched Erik wrestling with the detective on the floor. Erik had flung himself at the detective before he could reach Meg. The detective lifted his knee into Erik's stomach. Wincing, Erik grabbed hold of the detective's coat collar and punched him just below his left eye. The detective grunted, heaving Erik off him and jumping up. Erik rolled some, stopping on his back. He growled viciously, reacting quickly and already getting ready to stand.

Erik was stopped when the detective lifted his foot and swiftly stepped down on his throat. Erik placed each of his hands on either side of the detective's boot, trying to heave his foot off to no avail. Erik snarled, thrashing under the detective, trying to free himself. Detective Fournier couldn't help but feel sorry for the man lashing underneath him, a man who had both an expression of anger and determination. Detective Fournier first noticed his exhaustion when Meg had been hit. Clearly the famous Phantom was in a condition not allowing him to be at his best. The detective was relieved about that. Surely the Phantom could have killed him easily otherwise. It was then a sharp pain snapped through his skull, but almost instantly after, all was black.

Meg stared down in shock, had she really just done that? The detective jolted and fell oddly to the floor. Erik instantly shoved the detective aside, grunting painfully and arching his back on the floor. He cursed between each painful breath, not sure what had happened and not caring to figure it out. All that mattered was the pain, it had to stop. A small cry of pain escaped his lips but he quickly clenched his jaw, stopping himself from shouting further. Meg dropped the revolver and fell to her hands and knees before Erik. She watched him frantically, not sure what to do. She reached forward to touch him, though stopped when Erik snarled at her. He turned on his side, his back to her. She watched him downheartedly, staring worriedly even as his pain seemed to subside. His breath was still irregular, and Meg wanted to ask him how she could help. Though, she was sure Erik would yell at her.

She glanced over at the detective; he seemed to be unconscious currently. Meg never really thought you _could _knock someone unconscious with the butt of a gun. She wondered what if she had killed him? No, his chest was still raising and falling. She sighed out of relief, then turned her attention back to Erik, whom sat up carefully, body shaking slightly. He let out a deep breath, still facing away from her. Meg stared at him sadly; it was heartrending to see him in such a condition. She reached forward hesitantly to touch his shoulder. Erik must have sensed it and stiffened. He seemed tense, as if he believed the detective to still be conscious.

"Do- do _not_ touch me." He said sharply, voice cutting at the beginning of his demand. Meg stopped right as he spoke, unsure of what to do. Deciding Erik was just being stubborn, she crawled forward a bit, sitting behind him delicately and wrapping her arms around Erik's waist carefully, placing her cheek on his shoulder blade.  
"Do not fret.. he is unconscious." She said softly, sure that that wasn't what he was necessarily concerned about. She felt Erik relax.  
"He said.. you were not in your right mind, says I am playing you." Erik laughed coldly, gesturing up one arm to add emphasis.  
"He is mistaken." Meg whispered gently, trying to calm Erik down.  
"Of course, he must be right. You must be completely mad! Who would actually desire to spend their time with a demented lunatic? A demon such as myself?" He cried, nearly yelling. Though as he continued it trailed off forlornly.

Meg stared at the floor; cheek still pressed against Erik's shoulder, eyes full of fret. She did not want Erik to think this. She, even at in her days in the opera, never thought the Phantom to be any of those things. All the frightening stories she had made up to amuse the other petite rats were just that, stories. Her mother had kept her from thinking otherwise.  
"Erik.. truly, you are nothing less then a genius."

* * *

Ending it nicely. You know, I have never used a cliffhanger.. maybe I should? Spite! Spite! Yeah. o.o Well! Review! 'Cus I just love it when you do! Makes me go faster and update sooner!  
And it makes me feel special. -cough- So! Review now! 


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

**Authoress' Note:** Well! It took lots of rewording and such to get this chapter out. It annoyed me. Rawr. Anyways, I am not completely happy with it but it came out okay. -

**Zeech:** Or.. not. -Smirk.-  
**Childofthewilderness:** Unfortunately Erik is such a stubborn man! I hope this was soon enough. Better then ever anyhow.  
**L'Wren:** Gah! Your quite right! That is one of my major spelling problems. I always do that! I was told that one before.  
-cough-Panna-cough-. So no, your not making an idiot of yourself. Yay! I am so glad you like it! Keep reviewing!  
**Snowfox2:** XD XD I liked the first one and the last one! Greatness Snowfox. I usually write humor, so it's good to get a break from all the seriousness!  
**Gerfan:** Action ish the best.  
**Key:  
†**This will indicate a important note. Will be explained at the end.  
†This will be placed next to things in the story I would wish to explain. They will be detailed at the end of each chapter.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Erik's face twisted up in confusion, he was extremely taken back by Meg's comment. A genius? Yes.. maybe to himself but he had expected Meg to keep quiet, because surely, she didn't really think that. Could she? He had done so many terrible things. She had to know; he had to explain to her how deranged he was. Slowly, he shook his head. He could not let Meg believe this, for her own sake. "Meg-" His choked, stopping himself from speaking, he found himself on the verge of tears. Meg sighed slightly; knowing Erik would forcefully disagree. Though, she was a little surprised he had cut off. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as Erik shifted and stood unsteadily, sliding from her arms. Erik mechanically placed his right hand over the deformed side of his face. He stared off; breathing deeply for a moment then slowly trailed his hand down cheek, removing it as he did so. Erik turned subtly toward Meg and motioned to the detective. To make her aware of his presence.

Meg looked over at the detective, for a moment, she had forgotten he was there. "What will we do with him?"  
"I propose we push him down the staircase." Erik said, looking away and clearing his throat quietly.  
"Surly, that would make a great deal of noise." Meg mumbled; not sounding at all amused.  
"Right..." Erik sighed and turned, beginning to look agitated. "Your not going to allow me to kill him, are you?"  
"No, Erik, I am not." She said softly, at the moment, not letting herself get angry about his sudden change in mood. Certainly, he was only doing it to hide himself. Meg stood slowly, and walked over to the detective. "We have to restrain him somehow.."  
"Do you keep rope?"  
"No.. I do not usually come across predicaments where I would be of use." Meg waited for his response, and when it did not come, she shrugged and kneeled down. She lifted her had to feel the detective's head for blood. "He seems to be fine.. well, despite the unconsciousness." She stood, dusting herself off absentmindedly.

"Unfortunately." Erik mumbled, then turned around to face Meg, "Well, what do yousuggest we do now?" He said disdainfully.  
"Move him to the bed?"  
".. I think the chair would suffice." Erik said coolly, walking swiftly over to the detective and grabbing his wrists. He grunted slightly and began to walk backward, carelessly pulling the detective toward the chair.  
Meg stared at him perplexedly, "Uh.. Monsieur.. I believe his foot is not supposed to go like that.." Meg pointed to the detective.  
"Eh?" Erik looked over at the detective's foot, which was bent awkwardly.  
"You must have dislocated his ankle.." Meg said quietly, sounding strangely worried. Erik glared at her as he propped the detective up into the chair sloppily. He brought his left hand to his wound, letting out a deep breath.  
"No matter." Erik said quietly, shrugging.  
"Do you think he told anyone else?"  
"Maybe."

Meg sighed, getting annoyed with the awkward atmosphere. "Erik, how is your wound?"  
"Fine." Erik answered automatically, walking over to the bay window, trying to find something to occupy himself with. Meg frowned, walking off to retrieve a cold press for the detective's head.

Meg returned, glancing over at Erik whom had settled himself in the bay window. She walked briskly to the detective and placed the cold press against his forward, looking over at Erik. The sunlight that gleamed through the dark clouds shadowed him mysteriously. His hand was placed over the right side of his face and he seemed to be in deep thought. Meg momentarily stared at Erik, captivated by the sight. Erik stirred and glanced over at her, causing Meg to jump and hesitantly turn her attention back to the detective. Meg listened as Erik shifted; she tried to ignore him.

"He fancies you." Erik said with a strange hint of anger.  
"Is that so?" Meg said trying to stifle a laugh, "What makes you say this?"  
"Are you so dense?" Erik asked insultingly, glaring slightly. Meg stiffed, trying to fight back her rising irritation.  
"No, I just did not care to notice. He is not my type." Meg said, glaring down at nothing.  
"And what exactly, is your type Mademoiselle?"

Meg stiffened, unsure of a response. Truthfully, she had no idea how to explain her type- without embarrassing herself.  
"I-I do not know.." She stuttered and shrugged in reply, glancing away nervously. Erik scoffed and began to walk off, seemingly to decide he would find something to eat. Meg removed the cold press from the detective's forehead and held it in her lap, staring down sadly. "What are we going to do?" She mumbled, dreading the time when the detective will wake.

Erik, after he had eaten, had used ripped pieces of a sheet for makeshift ropes to tie the detective's arms to the chair. Meg, after much protest, had allowed this. Though, she stalked around the house, ignoring Erik for the most the day, quite upset that he had ruined one of her sheets. Erik found her behavior quite comical and after watching her amusingly for awhile, began to read a book he had found on the floor, quite glad to get the time to rest. Erik only glanced up once to see Meg walk hurriedly into her room.

-

Meg wandered out from her bedroom, yawning. Her hair was somewhat messy and she appeared to have just awakened. She stared groggily over to where she had last seen Erik, gasping slightly when she realized the detective was awake, and the chair which he was tied to had been turned over. The detective grunted painfully, though he looked relieved Meg had entered the room.

"Ah! Mademoiselle. I trust you slept well." Erik said cheerfully, which Meg though was oddly creepy.  
"Erik.. why is he on the floor?"  
**†**"Me and the detective here.. got in a small, quarrel." Erik smirked, walking backward away from the detective and sitting down casually in the bay window.

"Detective.." Meg mumbled and walked to his side, taking a few minutes to push and pull the chair back upright. She sighed with exhaustion and stared suspiciously down at the detective. "You really must learn to not speak with him, he angers quickly." She said, shooting Erik a disapproving look. True, she did not particularly like the detective, but maybe she could coax him into keeping quiet and leaving them alone.

Erik merely smiled smugly in response to Meg's comment. He leaned forward a bit, placing his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. "I say we torture him in order to keep him quiet." The detective made no repose, though his eyes seemed to be frozen in terror.  
"Now, detective. Do not look so frightened. He is only kidding." Meg said nervously, patting the detective's shoulder.  
"It is no use anyways, I informed my partner before I came to save you." The detective snapped, suddenly coming out of his terror-stricken state. Meg flushed upon hearing this and she looked over at Erik anxiously. Erik jumped up quickly, beginning to walk toward the detective.

"You never mentioned that during our little talk!" Erik snarled furiously, resulting in Meg swiftly moving away in alarm.  
The detective smirked, "Less time for you to make your leave."  
"You mendacious little-"  
"You should get going Phantom!" The detective interrupted, laughing gruffly. Erik delivered a swift kick to the chair, causing it to tip sideways and startle the detective. Erik turned to Meg, staring at her for a moment before striding over and jumping up into the bay window, unlatching it and lifting up the window forcefully.

It only dusk, but the dark clouds had envelop what was left of the light and give the street below a gloomy impression. He strained to listen for any sound, and sure enough, he heard the distant shouting of orders. Erik made a motion to leap out the window, though was stopped by a strange whimper sound from Meg. He let out a frustrated growl and looked back at the detective whom was already beginning to struggle out of his restraints. He looked at Meg, and in a thoughtless moment, jumped from the edge and back into the apartment. Meg stared at him with a strange expression of longing that puzzled the detective.

Erik strode to Meg, grabbing her wrist and taking her to the window. Erik whispered something to her ear and she nodded. He jumped out and down, a loud clank of metal echoing through the apartment as he did so. Meg looked over to the detective listlessly, then reached out her hand; being helped eloquently through the window. What followed was the hurried, subtle sound of footsteps upon the metal fire escape.

"Meg! What in the hell are you doing?" He detective shouted, now thrashing against his restraints. "Meg!" He cried, managing to free one arm. He tore hastily at the other knot, finally getting it undone, he stood and rushed to the window, jumping up into it and peering out. The fire escape was now empty, and so he strained to make something out of the shadow. He yelled out of frustration after some seconds and looked over the floor, jumping from the windowpane. †He staggered to receive his gun from the floor and ran to the front door.

* * *

**†** Okay! So, I did not know exactly(yes, I had an idea) what I wanted the 'little talk' to be about. So! I left it to your imaginations. Now! I would love to hear what you all think it was about, to see if one of you get close to my own! Feel free to e-mail it to me, or just post it on your review!  
†No,his foot is fine. 

Longish like chapter 12. This will probably get drowned out by the Friday updates, but oh well! I like my current reviewers! You guys are awesome-ness. Anywho! I will update, Saturday, maybe Friday. Today ish my Papa's birthday! So I should get going. Remember, review! 'Tis a happy day when I get lots of them. - Oh, and also remember the underlined request. Pwease?


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

**Authoress' Note:** I am pretty happy with the way this chapter came out. Nothing much to say about it.. Proud that I was able to update today. Again, this will be drowned out the others. To bad, oh well.

**Childofthewilderness:** I liked the end of your idea the 'like yourself?'. I laughed, because the detective is stupid. o.o Yeah. Anyhow! Your right in some sense. Thanks for your thoughts!  
**Ashanti01:** I gots the outline in my head. And your idea is mostly the closest to my own.  
**Zeech:** What do you mean? The ending wasn't that bad-cries-  
I think Erik is the best when he's mean!  
**Snowfox2:** It hurts! XD I am so glad I didn't read that in my tech class.. wouldn't be able to restrain myself. As your idea may have been completely off, they where teh best! XD Yes. Meatloaf. I adore the last two. Mostly the second. Erik can be so cruel! That would completely ruined the 'poor' detective's pants. I love them! Keep 'em coming. Please!  
**purplepeopleeater: **Yes.. no one likes him! And he was to stupid to follow them down the fire escape! I think a potato would make a better detective .. but people would be tempted to eat him. I kind of trailed off there. Anyways! Thanks for the review.

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Grimy water that had seeped into the patterned grooves of the road splashed up as Meg Giry ran, soaking the hem of her day dress. Erik seemed to be in own world, he keep a tight grip on Meg's wrist and was basically dragging her along. She ran clumsily to keep from falling over, staring distractedly at the back of Erik's head. His pace was steady and smooth; he appeared to be running with ease. To Meg, the pace was much to fast and she was already beginning to pant. It also struck her how natural running seemed to be to Erik. Well, after all, he had been doing it for years.

Erik turned a corner swiftly, stopping abruptly as he did so. Meg, whom had heard a shout behind her, lost attention and slammed into Erik. He jerked subtly, but otherwise did not move. Meg grumbled slightly, moved back some. She opened her mouth to ask Erik what he was doing when he unexpectedly yanked on her arm, pulling her around the corner. He covered her mouth with his free hand. Meg would have been irritated had she not saw the flash of light move about on the opposite wall. The light began to spread on the wall as the sound of footsteps became louder.

"Michel! Anything?" The deep, far off, voice of an elder man called.  
"No.. no, I do not see anything sir!" The closer, voice called back.  
"Come then, get a move on!"  
"Sir..." The young voice trailed off, as if still suspicious, though his receding footsteps sounded his obvious leave.

Erik lowered his hand slowly, resting it softly on Meg's clavicles, before her neck. It was then he realized how strained her breathing was.  
"Are you tired?" He asked listlessly, though he was unaware of his own tone.  
"No." She lied, shaking her head. Glancing down at his hand with a censorious look. Erik looked away, hearing something off in that direction. Perfunctorily, he brushed his hand softly across Meg's jaw line, making her shiver.  
"Come, this way." Erik whispered suddenly and began running in a premeditated direction, pulling Meg along.

The time they had been running was lost, but Meg suspected they had gotten fairly far. The long periods of running had begun to take their toll on her bare feet, each step the bottoms of her feet stung in protest. She gasped as a sharp rock entered her foot, though she dared not slow her pace. She had begun doubting what she was doing, what _they_ were doing. Where could they possibility go? A small part of her wished she had never gone with Erik. When she realized her own doubts, her mind seemed to cloud over and she lost all concentration on keeping up with the reckless phantom leading her. Meg gasped, tripping over her own feet which gave up underneath her, and she felt the hard concrete under her right cheek, her arm still lifted in the air awkwardly from Erik's grip. Erik quickly released Meg as he felt her fall, whirling around quickly to stare at her.

She groaned a little, stunned slightly. A throbbing pain pulsed through her head from the impact and tears reached her eyes. She sat up slowly, shaking slightly.

"You should have informed me that I was going to fast for you." Erik said plainly, placing his hands on his hips. Meg ignored him, sniffing and wiping her hand over her cheek, wincing as her hand brushed tender skin. Erik reached his hand down toward Meg and his eyes softened. "You should go back home..." He said, straining to sound uninterested. Meg grasped his hand carefully, finding it hard to now support herself. She sniffed once more, unsure of how to respond to Erik's comment. Though, her attention turned to a gleam in her eyes, one that was surely from a lantern. An unknown strength powered her as she shoved Erik against the wall and into the shadows. She held him against the wall with one hand placed firmly on his chest, feeling him stiffen. She squinted as the light shone in her eyes from around a corner. The carrier of the lantern stopped.

"Excuse me! Have you seen anyone go by here?" The young man shouted from down the road, shinning the lantern toward her.  
"If you would kindly move the light out of my eyes, I will tell you." She shouted back, unaware of the blood running down the skinned side of her face.  
"Pardon that." The man said softly and moved the light. "Anyone?" He called.  
"I believe I saw a man, with a woman. Down the street there." Meg lied, pointing down the opposite way with her free hand.  
"All right! Thank you!" He called and began to walk off when a man called his name and appeared in Meg's sight.  
"Who are you talking to?" The gruff voice asked, looking down in street in the direction Meg and Erik where. Meg grimaced as she recognized the voice and felt Erik tense.  
"A woman Detective sir. Right down there." The younger man replied, pointing toward Meg. She stared at them both warily and the older man grabbed the lantern from the other and began strolling toward them.

"Excuse me. I would like to talk to you further if I could.." He called, shinning the light toward her. Meg began to step back, her hand sliding off Erik's chest. Her legs shook and she stumbled a bit, though was confident she could run again.  
"Erik.." She whispered softly, "He knows it is me.. let us go.." Meg staggered as she walked backward, setting the detective into a run. Erik swiftly leaped from the shadows and wrapped his arms around Meg, picking her up from the waist and dashing off. He smirked as he listened to the detective's yells and shouts.

Meg blinked blankly in surprise as Erik ran along, seemingly un-phased by the added weight. She was amazed that he was able to do such in his condition, though, the more she thought about it the more she guessed Erik was probably in more pain then he showed. As Erik turned a corner, he found himself in a dead end alley. He placed Meg down and twirled in a circle to examine the possibilities. His breathing was rapid and he placed his hand on his wound, all the activity was gnawing at his muscles. Meg looked around and observed another fire escape, the latter was lifted up and Meg doubted her own ability to reach as high as that. She glanced sadly at Erik, whom would have to heave her up, as well as himself. It was then Meg decided that she couldn't allow him to escort her blindly around any longer, despite how much she wanted it.

"Erik.." Meg said softly, placing his hand on his shoulder and she pointed to the fire escape with her free hand.  
"Let's go." Erik said, grabbing her wrist and beginning to pull her forward.  
"No, Erik, I am not going." Meg said unhappily, restraining herself from moving. Erik looked back at her, tugging on her wrist softly as if he had not heard her. "Erik." Meg said sternly and Erik quickly let go of her wrist.  
"Changed your mind, have you?" He glared, stepping away from her, anger unexpectedly flashing across his face.  
"Changed my mind...? No, Erik." Meg said in confusion, not quite sure what he meant but certain 'no' would be the right response.  
"Cyclic!" Erik shouted, turning away from her in anger. "He was right after all, was he?" Erik laughed scornfully, "What was your game, exactly?" He questioned, "To simply entertain yourself?"  
"Erik.. your- your rambling.. I-I do not know what yo-"  
"Quiet! I have had enough of you!" Erik cried, interrupting Meg's comment and making her sink back in fear. "Libidinous minx!" Erik hissed, though he seemed to not be directly talking to Meg. He snarled and turned to face her, staring at her furiously. His eyes narrowed, and through clenched teeth, growled heatedly, "Leave then."

* * *

Not short! .. -glares- Alright good. So! I kind of left it on a cliffhanger, because I am MEAN. No, actually, I just did it because I wanted to try it. o.O I don't think I was a huge cliffhanger so yeah. Thoughts! Things you thought where going to happen that didn't? Random things you find amusing in this? Tell me! I am to curious for my own good! Review review! If I gets a lot(I am not picky) by evening tomorrow, I will update then. If not, expect it Sunday. Not to taunt you, but because I slack off when not motivated. So! Review! 


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.

Authoress' Note: Woo. Hate the cliff hanger! For yes, they are evil. Sorry about that all! No more, I promise. Just wanted to do it once. Now.. you probably won't see this until tomorrow, but I did update Saturday! I ended up watching two movies.. and so it is kind of late.. sorry again.  
**Childofthewilderness:** I shall! Keep writing, yes.  
**snowfox2:** Ah, but the pain is good. Meg is the meatloaf! .. You know, I quite like meatloaf.  
The last two where the best. XD Good going, thanks a lot for that!  
L'Wren: I tried to get motivated! I promise**!  
Phantom's Fallen Angel:** No crying. o.o I update, see? And thank you, I am glad you like my Erik.  
**Orli's Eeps Chica:** I look forward to the longer review!  
**YiyangYoung:** Thank you! And I know, it is evil. The 'minx' thing, yeah. I was trying not to reuse words, it came out as that. Heh.

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Another note: This is a something I wrote in ten seconds because I felt like it. You know, a random thing I just sorta typed right in the middle of the story. Thought I'd put it up for some unknown reason. 

Meg: .. So.. cliff hanger..  
Erik: Yeah huh..  
Meg: You where rather harsh...  
Erik: I was.  
Meg: ... You suck.. I will get you back.  
Erik-Suspiciously.- Worrisome. You have a perverted sense of revenge.  
Meg: Yeah. -Thoughtfully.- But, this time I will try to not try to sleep with you.  
Erik- . -'  
Meg: That was not worded right, was it? o.o

* * *

****

...Into La Ment

Meg began to walk backward hands clutched together at her chest, unsure how to respond to Erik's actions. She had expected him to act harshly, and maybe, she should just do as he said. At least that way, they would part with heated hearts and maybe Meg would be able to forget about the forsaken phantom. She stopped walking, staring at him with a set expression of dread. What was she thinking? It was all a misunderstanding, though, Meg admitted she was too frightened to even explain. Erik looked completely furious and betrayed.

The fear drained from Meg's face as something dawned on her, if Erik did loathe her, he would have already dashed off. He would have said something cruel and left, but he wasted his time glaring at her. Meg realized Erik was waiting for something to happen, maybe she should explain herself? She reached her hand, in a fact-like manner and began to open her mouth when she was silenced when Erik lifted his arm and pointed off down the street, growling subtly. "Stop procrastinating. Go." He said coldly continuing to glare at her. Meg flinched a bit, as if she thought he was going to hit her and she began to step back again. How could she let herself do this! How could he just send her off? Tears of anger reached her eyes and she clenched her jaws. He would just yell at her to leave, and worse still, she was listening. Meg stopped dead in her tracks, hot tears now running down her face.

Erik lowered his arm, his expression of anger turning to confusion. She was crying, but she seemed to be more angry then sad. She began to step forward to him, sniffling a bit as she did so.  
"No. I am not leaving. You are being ridiculous." Meg growled through clenched teeth, stopping only a few feet away.  
"You wanted to leave in the first place!" Erik shouted and he noticed Meg flinch; though she did not back down.  
"No Erik!" She threw up her arms for emphasis. "I said I was not going! Not that I wanted to leave you!" Meg made a face, replaying the sentence in her head.  
"And how, Mademoiselle, is there a difference?" He asked with a hint of mockery.  
"There is! And uh, I-I expected to see you again.." She trailed off, for a moment letting her anger slip.

Erik scoffed, "Have you not noticed my situation? It is quite clear I would prefer to leave it." He said gesturing around himself. "You have seemed to be oblivious to who- _what_ I am this whole time. Maybe, the detective had finally enlightened you? Of course, I cannot blame you, but really, you should try to be less false-hearted. I obviously frighten you." His voice was harsh, with a twisted sense of disdain.

"Wrong again!" Meg shouted, "Erik, if anything at all, I am _disillusioned_." Her facial expression changed and looked as if she was in a wonderful dream, "All my life, I have been told stories, unreasonable stories about you. My mother, my mothered helped you! She told me about you, but always to never search you. I really did have an obsession with you when I was young. I would sometimes try to follow my mother down into the opera cellars, but she always knew, and always stopped me. You where something, someone, completely unknown! I was draw to you.. I know not why." Meg went on, she really had no idea what she was saying. "And then.. Christine. Oh dear.. I had no idea what to think anymore. I was confused more then ever. Then, I decided to hate you because of what you did. I went down to find Christine.. with the people who wanted to murder you. I am sorry, but at the moment I was just interested in finding my best friend. The only thing I did find, while the others hunted to find you.. was a mask. My mother, before she dies, told me everything she knew of you. I always begged, wanting to met you. My fascination was clear, so I suppose that is why she told me. I lost that senseless feeling of hate. I never really hated you, ever." She glared at him, anger in her eyes, "Imagine now.. my disappointment."

Erik stared at Meg, this girl, this silly girl. How would one respond to such rambles? Her confession brought back stinging memories he had wished to leave behind when he planned to depart from Paris. He noticed the look of betrayal in her eyes, amazed by how she could still hold that small expression of anger. Behind it, everything was misery. Had he ruined anything? Possibly, the woman standing before him could be the one possible person now that cared for him. She had said she was fascinated by him.. never before in his miserable life had he thought of anyone ever saying that to him. Here he was, marring her depiction of himself with his impulsive cruelty. A depiction, which to her, was wonderful. An expression of sorrow crossed his face, did she truly loath him now?

Erik reached forward slightly with his left hand, placing it on the right side of Meg's face softly. Her angry expression vanished and was replaced by one of confusion as Erik ran his thumb over a trail of blood from the abrasion on her cheek. "Forgive me." He mumbled, finding it hard to say. Meg's expression became gentle and she grabbed his wrist tenderly with her hands, moving his hand away from her face. She placed her right hand in his and entwined them, she had a curious expression, as if she was testing what his reaction would be. Erik moved into the space between them and hesitantly leaned forward a bit, both their eyes closed. Erik felt Meg flinch as their lips brushed together. They lingered there for a moment, neither one of them sure of themselves. Erik listened as the sound of many hurried footsteps advanced toward their position. He lifted his hand to the side of her neck, tilting his head a bit to enter into a kiss.

"Over here!" The voice of an unknown male cut out into the murky air. Meg turned abruptly; looking much like a girl whom had just awoken from a dream. The unusual warmth of a phantom had left her, and the only thing present now was the plain, artificial light of a lantern creating a silhouette of a stranger.

* * *

So! That is it for chapter 14. A bit short I am afraid, but oh well. Cheers to me? As I have never typed anything quite as fluffy as this. Honestly, I think I am terrible at it. Which is quite means quite a lot considering it wasn't even that fluffy. Anywho, I tried. Review! I am thrilled when you do! 


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I own no rights to The Phantom of the Opera. Be it book, movie, or theater production. Though, Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. Probably some others as well...I dunno, just not me.**

Authoress' Note: I had so much fun with this chapter! Meg becomes a bit strange, but if you think about everything in her situation, I should make sense. Well, at least I think it does. Anyhow! May you like this chapter as much as I do.

**Oliva:** I know it is, that is why I had to do it! Because I like that side! I love the book. Anywas, I am glad you gave me the review! How special am I.  
**Childofthewilderness:** I was up until midnight typing that, so I understand your lack of sleep. Though, my eyes do not have convulsions until later in the night. At least you liked the chapter, ha, your going to be mad at the way this one ends too. XD I am so mean.  
**YiyangYoung:** Really? Good! I was trying to update Saturday, but you know, can be a bit odd sometimes. Thank you. I do not like much fluff, so I am glad it was just right.**  
Ashanti01:** Mwha, the unknown people ruin pretty moments! But if I did not tease you, I am sure it would not be as good. And the schoolgirl thing, wow. lol. -Claps.- And I always update soon!  
**Snowfox2:** Liked the third one, Erik is so pervasive! XD Yay for fun!  
**Petite Fae**: I am terrible at romance. o.o  
**Phantom's Fallen Angel: **I know! Sorry! I was tired, needed sleep! There is kissing! But not one you will like. Dun dun dun?  
**Panna:** I was going to say.. 'Well, this one time I had a guy kiss a box..' But it wasn't romantic. Unless the box was in love with Dukom.. then ew. So, you hated it? Hey! I tried.  
-Scoffs.- Your going to hate this too then..

* * *

**...Into La Ment**

Meg sat in a plain wooden chair, barely listening to the police men around her. They carried on past the disheveled girl, some chatting, others looking quite hurried. A young man cursed vividly at them in German, being dragged into a room, one of the men shut the door loudly making Meg jump though she continued to stare fixedly at the floor. A coarse blanket was draped over her shoulders and hung down to the floor nearly hiding the small smears of blood that painted the floor under her feet. She had been sitting in the uncomfortable chair for some time now. She was barely aware of what was going on around her, the voices sounded so far off. Why where those her last words? Why had the situation been so wrong? If things had only been different..

The detective entered the room, staring at Meg. Her eyes where slightly glazed over as if she was catatonic. She seemed completely far off. When they had finally found her, she was alone and seemed to be in a strange state of delusion and distressed. The bottoms of her feet where cut from running on the rocky side streets and where mainly on the balls of her feet, suggesting she was being forced along. A series of crisscrossed grated looking scratched spread across the top part of her right cheek and blood was dripping through them. Now the fresh blood seemed to stop just before it seeped down her cheek, preserving the dried blood smears across the bottom of her cheek that made it look as if someone had attempted to wipe it away. The detective bit down in anger on the tip of a cloth that he had hanging from this mouth in anger. The psychopath had left her in an autism like state. When he approached Meg, she seemed like she was terribly confused and to his surprise, he lead her away with barely any resistance though she ignored completely.

Detective Fournier was completely certain the Phantom had screwed with Meg's head somehow, people whom where in Meg's position never act as she did. Fournier moved forward, placing a cup of coffee on a table and grabbing the cloth out of his mouth with his free hand. He walked to Meg, sighing a bit as he kneeled down next to her. He a small bowl of water on the floor, sniffing loudly to test if she would look at him. She didn't. He stared at her with pity, she had been through so much. Her face was pale and she looked as if she was cold.  
"Meg." He said softly in greeting, brushing the hair from her face. "How you been holding up?" He asked pointless, searching for some kind of response on her face, he found none.

'..My feet certainly sting.' Meg thought to herself, continuing to stare off blankly. She lifted her left foot subtly, feeling the sticky thick liquid. 'Lovely..' She thought again, drooping her shoulders some. She felt a presence by her side, then someone pushed her hair out of her face, she deliberately ignored whomever it was. She feared to stir, if she did, would she loose the feelings of what had happened some hours ago? Certainly, it had all already begun to sink into mere memories.

Fournier sighed, dipping the clean corner of the cloth in the water and slowly lifting it to Meg's cheek. "I have no idea where your mind has wandered off to, but anyways, Meg I am going to get some of this blood off you. Gore does not suit you." He placed the corner on Meg's face, a disappointed feeling took hold of him as Meg was none responsive. He began to gently run the cloth down her cheek. Detective Fournier took the time to observe Meg's features, he figured he most liked Meg's eyes, even in her state, you could still see the veiled playful child. He couldn't help smiling as he ran the cloth over her cheek bone, brushing away what was left of the blood, though as soon as he brought the cloth away the scratches filled with the crimson liquid. He dropped the cloth carelessly into the water, staring at Meg intently, "Meg, can you hear me?" He tried again, what was going on with her? He sighed and began to bring his hand to her face.

Before he would touch her cheek she cringed away and turned her head swiftly to look at him, her hair falling about in her face. Her eyes narrowed at him, how dare he try to touch her. Meg glanced down at the bowl of water, realizing he had cleaned her face off, she brought a hand to her face, patting it softly with her finger tips. She flinched, quite surprised she had not felt him cleaning the scratches. The thought of falling into such an unaware state worried her but on the other hand, she had experience something that seemed completely unreal. Forgetting about the detective once again, she ran her finger down to her lips grazing them ever so slightly with her finger tips. On her lips was left an unimaginable yearning; she wished for so much more. Although, she did not want the desire to wane, the feeling of longing to stop tingling through her lips. It felt as if it left, it would take make her memories of Erik simply, disappear. Intense disappointment gripped her and she felt the detective grip her wrist softly and begin to pull her hand way from her face. She would have pulled back, but her mind was to preoccupied thinking about how unfair it all was. Her lips quivered and tears came to her eyes.

Fournier stared at Meg sadly, her heartbreaking display weighed heavy on his chest. He examined her wrist, glaring in hatred as he saw the beginning of bruises, he suspected the worse. Meg seemed to be staring through him and he gently nudged her a bit and to his surprise she reacted, turning her attention onto him. Her expression however, did not change. In a moment of blind desire, detective Fournier pressed his lips against hers. Meg's eyes grew wide in surprise as he moved away. As he did so, Meg felt as if all her bliss had drained from her and entered him. Horror took over her and a whimper of distress left her lips as detective Fournier jumped up, looking worried.

"Y-you..." Meg glared at him, jumping up quickly and nearly falling from the blood under her feet. She regained her balance and pointed at the detective, gaining some stares from the few people in the room. "How dare you? You disgusting man! I hate you!" She shouted loudly, "How could you do that?" She yelled, walking toward him carelessly leaving a trail of blood.  
"Meg, I am so sorry! I do not know-"

"Of course you do not!" She cried, grabbing the coffee from the table and tossed the contents at him. He yelped loudly, jumping back and hitting the wall, steam raising into the air from the heat of the coffee. "I hate you!" Meg repeated, tossing the paper coffee cup at the detective. He flinched slightly, other police officers running, one grabbing Meg's hands and holding them against her sides.

"Calm down Mademoiselle!" One shouted, struggling to hold her. Finally, Meg sunk to the floor, hands covering her face.  
"Christ." The detective muttered, wiping his hand across the front of his coat.  
"How could you.." She mumbled into her hands quietly, holding back tears.

-

Meg watched quickly from her bay window as police officers entered and leaved her house at random. So the search for the murderous phantom had started up again, old files where being reopened and starting a new. Meg scoffed quietly to herself, where ever Erik had gone, it was most likely very far away. She doubted he was even in France still. She had accepted ,a few days after he left, the fact that he would probably never come back, ever. Yet still, unwanted hope nagged at her and she would attempt to replay the small moment of passion in her head knowing nothing of the sort would ever happen again. Meg had received a letter from Christine in the meantime, much was not even about the notorious phantom. Meg had decided not tell her about anything, perhaps some other time in life. She sighed, watching a police man leaving her room with Erik's worn attire.

"Harboring a murder is a felony.." He mumbled as he stopped to talk to her. Meg frowned as she recognized his cloak in his careless hands. Maybe she could retrieve it from the station one day? Meg noticed she was staring and looked away uneasily, motioning toward the door for him to leave. He shrugged and began to walk off, only really trying to begin conversation. She had been awfully quiet the whole time, it made him uncomfortable.

"Mademoiselle! If you would please." Another police man called, motioning her to follow him into her own bedroom. Meg did so, stopping as she noticed him moving to her dresser. The mahogany box was open, containing a gleaming white mask. Meg gasped some and moved forward, shutting the box. She glanced over at the police officer sadly, shaking her head.

"You cannot take this. It is merely from many years ago.. honestly, Monsieur.. please. I will not help you." She said quietly, barley above a whisper. The police officer touched her shoulder gently, nodding.  
"Do not worry Mademoiselle." He smiled and began to walk off. "I believe that is all. Sorry to intrude. Have a nice day." He nodded a farewell and walked off. Meg listened to his footsteps and heard the front door shut. She grabbed the box from the dresser and moved over to the bed, placing it in her lap. She brushed her hand over the top of the box, wondering if she should have given back Erik his mask.

"Maybe another time.." She mumbled, glancing out into window into the darkness of the world.

**End**

* * *

Now, this is where I actually intend to end it. Seriously, this is the end. Like, teh teh end. End.  
Okay! Review time! Please?  
Expect for Panna, she is evil in a box.  
But she can review because she keeps me from dying and I love her anyways. 


	16. End Chapter

**Epilogue**  
Seven months later.

The cigarette twirled in the air, creating a strange pattern of smoke before it landed, hissing from the wet pavement. Detective Fournier stepped on it casually, twisting his foot as he blew out the remaining smoke from his lungs, watching it fade into the air in front of him. His attention turned back to a young woman whom was making her way out a building, turning quickly back toward the door. The sound of keys echoed down the ominous street as the woman hurriedly locked the door. She turned on her heel and began to walk swiftly down the street. Surprised at her quickness, Luc began to follow with wide strides. As he began to realize Meg was going to turn the corner ahead, he quickened his pace to catch up with her, still a fairly far distance away. Then, something strange catches his attention. He glanced over his shoulder; quite sure he was being followed. Seeing nothing, he looked forward, now listening intensely.

Sure enough, there was another set of footsteps. He glared for a moment before turning abruptly in hopes to caught sight of the third party. He stopped in an assailer's pose, puzzlement played across his face as he stared down the empty avenue. The lamplights flickered then steadied, conforming the street's aloneness. "Huh." He said softly, straightening up and looking embarrassed. He ran his right hand through his hair, placing his other on his hip. "I could have sworn.." He trailed off, suddenly remembering Meg; he turned in time to see the wave of her skirt disappearing at she turned into the byroad. Cursing, he began to run forward.

All of a sudden a powerful force pushed him forward, and in a flash of motion he was whirled around. The force shoved him back into a lamppost, the impact making in cry out in pain. He cut off as a gloved hand was placed over his mouth, a tightening force now constricting his throat. He opened his eyes, flinching as he instantly recognized his attacker. His second cry was muffled and he gagged at the hold on his neck tightened."Now now, Detective, please do try to show some moral fiber." The Phantom said softly, as if speaking with a child. A strange growling noise admitted from the detective throat as he struggled against the Phantom. He was retrained easily, the Phantom had recovered. "I will remove my hand, if you promise to not shout. Do you?" He detective stopped struggling, glaring at the Phantom as he nodded his head. "Good." He removed his hand, stilling holding the detective against the pole with his other and his own body weight. The detective cursed at him receiving a disapproving look from the Phantom as he pulled an eight-gauge wire from seemingly no where.

He detective gasped, beginning to thrash about. The Phantom snarled, lifting his knee into the detective's stomach. He grunted but continued to struggle, trying to punch at the Phantom's face and managed to hit him across his jaw line. The Phantom jerked, but seemed unaffected as he rapidly spun around the pole, cross the wire in front of it and in front of the detective's throat. He pulled back, bending the wire and beginning to twist the ends over reach other until the wire had the detective in the strong hold.

In a sate of confusion, the detective stopped. Now realizing a wire was around his neck, his confusion only grew."Now that your fussing seems to be over.." The Phantom trailed off sarcastically, obviously irritated.  
"What the hell are you doing?" Luc snarled, reaching back in a sad attempted to reach the twisted ends of the wire.  
"Murdering you of course. Surely you did not think I would pointlessly wire you to a pole.." The Phantom murmured listlessly, placing his hands on the wire ends and beginning to twist them again, the motion slowly tightening the wire. The detective quickly brought up his hand, pressing it between the wire and his throat, palm pressed against his neck.  
"Demented fuck!" The detective exclaimed loudly, tugging at the wire with his free hand.  
"Really detective! Your language is appalling." He said in false surprise, now ignoring the detective as he began to struggle again. "You brought this upon yourself; I had to live on the streets for quite sometime, as you know, I was not in the best condition. A man without a home and wounded nonetheless! Luckily for you, an old tramp was kind enough to assist me. Really, because at that point I was imagining a much more violent death for you, I am becoming even less tolerant to those who seem to enjoy worsening my already horrible life." The Phantom sighed sadly; "I had to wait much to long to return here."  
"I am not going to feel sorry for you." The detective spat with pointless courage."Pity? From you?" The Phantom let out a cruel bit of laughter, making the detective cringe. "No, the only thing I want from you is you to die." He began to twist the wire faster, beginning to be impatient.

-

Blood slurred out of the detective's mouth, he could feel the pounding in his head as he viciously tried to breathe. His mind seemed to be unable to focus on nothing but the pain, nothing but the tightening around his throat and his hand. He retched in panic, trying to move his hand in vain. A nauseating crack made the detective scream as the wire pressure clearly snapped his middle metacarpal bones. The pain was completely agonizing.

Giving the wire a last few turns, Erik let go and swiftly covered the detective's mouth, muffling what was left of his scream. The detective's chest heaved furiously; between his constricted throat and aching fingers, to continue yelling would be impossible for him now. Erik examined the wire, finding it was already cutting into the detective's throat. He glanced around, removing his hand slowly from the detective's mouth. The policeman would not make his round past this position for some time, by then the detective would be dead.

Erik ignored the slurred speech of the detective, looking toward the corner where Meg had disappeared. He turned his hand palm upward into the light, noting the smeared blood on his glove. "Perhaps I should clean up before I greet her."

**End**


End file.
